Star Trek: Phoenix - 101 Shakedown
by Soraan
Summary: The first adventure of Captain Samantha Taggart and the USS Phoenix, circa. 2382 AD. The Phoenix's shakedown cruise gets interrupted by the need to investigate why a planet that is just about to become a member of the Federation cuts all contact with Earth.Reviews welcome.Rated M to be on the safe side. NB:Chapter 2 has been rewritten as of 19/11 in response to helpful feedback.
1. Chapter 1

Learning from my mistakes is something I do _try_ to do. My Mother would argue here, but I stand my ground. Inevitably, like being caught in a time-loop, there are things I am doomed to repeat. This is why friends and beta readers were invented – to periodically yank people like me out of these loops, show us the error of our ways, then facepalm as we slip right back into the deep dark depths of typos, AWOL commas and the exhausting mine field that is the English language.

To this end, I would like to thank Sophia DeLuna, Agota, and Lizzi Shepherd. I hope I kept the forehead bruising to a minimum.

**Warning: **This story depicts scenes of a sexual relationship between two women. If this is not your liking I suggest you go find a more palatable story.

**Copyright: **While all the main characters and plot are the product of my imagination, pretty much nothing else belongs to me. Star Trek and everything therein are owned by Paramount. I'm just making sure the dust does not accumulate too deeply by maintaining its use.

**Star Trek: Phoenix**

"_Shakedown"_

**Chapter 1**

She sat on the edge of the heavy wooden table, her legs swinging slightly beneath her as she slowly wrapped the white leather straps around her wrists. Routine was something in which she could lose herself. It was one of the few things she cherished and now used to calm her nerves and her raging emotions. Securing the wrist straps, she picked up two more strips that were on her lap and massaged the soft, supple leather between her fingertips. Familiar emotions welled inside her as she carefully wrapped each strip in turn around her knuckles, crossing the material over the palm of her hands, around her wrist, and back up over the hardened bony bases of her fingers. Fury. Excitement. Fear. _Power_.

In the darkened corner of the sub-basement, she was in her own world as she prepared for her encounter. The spotlights were directed towards the middle of the large space leaving the edges in shadows. It was also blissfully cooler than the hot centre where dozens of spectators were gathered. The light-generated heat was combining with the body heat, sweat and passion of the crowd to create a mini heat island effect in what was otherwise a normally frigid concrete hole. The noise was deafening as those attending shouted their support or condemnation for those in the rough circular arena they surrounded, the hard-packed sand floor did nothing to lessen the din.

Her world was silent though, her attention entirely focused on the task at hand.

She moved herself back as she swung her right leg up, her heel dropping onto the edge of the table with a dull thud. The heel was wide and solid, and just high enough to keep her weight towards her steel-capped toes. The dark brown leather was stiff around her ankle, restricting her movements slightly but in turn providing needed protection and support. While the boot around the back of her calf stopped halfway up, a more solid piece ran the length of the front of her shin, culminating in a small oval shield meant as basic protection for her knee.

She was no fool though. The shield, and to a certain extent the leather 'spine' over her shin, would do little to protect her against a full assault. However, it added to her feeling of power even if it was more for show than for anything else. Regardless, she made sure the laces up the back of her boot were tight and that the straps holding the spine on were fastened securely before going through the same procedure with her other boot. In time, she pushed herself off the table and slowly started stretching her limbs.

She was nervous.

She felt a presence approaching at her back, the perfume identifying the arrival as the Ring Mistress, despite the overpowering scents of sweat and body fluids hanging oppressively in the air. Without conscious thought her back straightened, her shoulders moved back and her chin rose.

Before she could turn she felt a feminine hand press onto her naked thigh. She remained still as the hand moved up onto her right hip, her dark low-slung leather briefs dulling the sensation momentarily before she felt the caress fully again across her bare muscled abdomen. Stopping just below her sleeveless crop top, the hand's owner pressed bodily into her back, making her shiver with desire. The smooth deep chuckle that vibrated through her shoulder blades resulted in another shiver, the voice soon following obviously amused through the faint Germanic accent.

"I see your libido does not succumb to anything." A knowing chuckle accompanied the statement before turning more serious, "The question is Samantha, what about the rest of you?"

The use of her full name startled her somewhat, unusual as the occurrence was. Feeling the Ring Mistress back away slightly she turned around, her emerald green eyes meeting the light blue. The older woman raised her hand slowly, threading her fingers through the vivid golden strands of Sam's short wavy hair, her eyes softening around the corners slightly. The Mistress was worried, and she was even showing it.

Sam started to respond when the Mistress continued her train of thought, almost wistful in her tone.

"You have been with us a while now. Six years..." she paused, before adding, "longer than most. You're a survivor in everything you do, but I hope, that despite your sudden arrival in my household, you have made it your home." The two women held each other's gaze for a few moments, the boundaries between them gone briefly enough to convey what was required.

The Mistress smiled wryly, her hand rising to her full cleavage from where her manicured fingers pulled a long white handkerchief. Holding the ends in both hands she regarded it before appearing to come to a decision within herself.

"You know Gisele is different to the rest of you. You say you have no choice in your existence. She _chooses_ this life. She _enjoys_ destroying women like you." The Mistress narrowed her eyebrows in a frown at her subordinate, "but you know that already," she spat almost angrily, before composing herself once more. "It is a miracle you recovered so well."

"For which I have you to thank for, Mistress," returned the blonde quietly, her British lilt contrasting the German's guttural tone.

"Yes. You do," the Mistress replied flatly, before sighing. "I just hope it is not me you'll have to thank if..." she left the rest unsaid before raising the handkerchief to tie around her chosen champion's well developed right bicep. Standing on her toes she gently kissed her fighter's pale cheek before stepping away, her voice now strong and commanding, "You fight wearing my Favour tonight. Do _not_ dishonour me."

Sam watched the Ring Mistress retreat into the crowd gracefully, her long black dress accentuating her slender curves. It was true; Gisele had almost killed her, the only other time they had met. She had been very naïve as to the reality of free style fighting. The rules were simple: defeat your opponent by any means short of death. Most managed to walk away, if unsteadily. Some had to be dragged from the arena and have their wounds treated.

Some were less fortunate.

She fell into the former category, for the most part. Her defeat and humiliation to Gisele had taught her to be ruthless though, and while the power that came with it excited her deeply, she refused to lower herself to the level of the other woman. She did not understand her, nor did she particularly want to. Right now she had no room in her life for moral debate or sympathies.

Her hand rose to touch the handkerchief around her bicep. Despite the Mistress' voiced doubts, the sheer presence of the Favour was enough to show the confidence she had in her champion. Everyone would see the Favour and their level of expectation would rise as a result. Gisele would also see it, and Sam honestly had no idea what the response would be – no House to her knowledge had dared to show favour to an opponent of hers.

Despite the new pressure, Sam smiled. It was a slow self-satisfied smirk that was born from the knowledge that she was ready for this. She was not undefeated since her fall to Gisele, but she wanted to set that little record straight once and for all.

And face her nightmares.

Still looking at the crowd she slowly started letting the world back in. Every sight, sound, and scent around was absorbed and processed, allowed to flow through her body as she started psyching herself up for what was to come. The assembled crowd was roaring at the current contestants in the arena, the fight prior to hers having just started. She could hear the grunts and cries of the two men, could almost feel the pounding in the ground as they fell in turn, only to get back up and carry on. The chanting was almost musical, the deep rumbling of the mainly male crowd urging on their wager to bloodier and brutal acts. Her turn would come soon.

She continued the stretching and limbering exercises that had been interrupted earlier, feeling the power she was capable of generating coursing through every muscle as she warmed up. Clenching her fists she bounced easily on the balls of her feet, quickly moving through swift jabs, uppercuts and kicks to get the blood moving through her veins.

Meanwhile, at the far side and left of the basement, a small entourage arrived down the steep steps as she let loose with a flurry of punches, the white leather flashing rapidly through the air. She already knew who the newcomer was, but in case there was any doubt in her mind the bold red flashes of leather adorning the tall muscular woman at the centre of the group confirmed it for her: Gisele had arrived.

Gisele's body was similarly clad to Sam's, the white leather replaced by red to denote the primary colour of the House she represented. Sam was not short by any means at 5 feet 10 inches, but Gisele still stood a good two inches taller. Outside the Ring, they led very different lives with Gisele's tanned skin a testament to this when compared to her own paler shade. Like Sam, she maintained her body meticulously while managing not to look overly muscular. Vanity was something they probably shared, and neither of them was shabby in that department.

Suddenly the crowd parted to the right as two male bouncers dragged a bloody brunette bundle through the throng to the back wall where an on-duty doctor started work on him immediately. At a glance, his injuries did not appear too bad: a few minor broken bones and some deep bruising at the most. Through the gap Sam could see the victorious fighter being treated by another doctor in the middle of the arena, the sandy floor a mottled yellow-red with the night's activities.

_Soon_. It would not take long for the Events Master to announce the next and final match of the night. Eyes at the back of the crowd were already turning in her general direction trying to make her out through the relative gloom. People she knew to be supporters of her looked concerned. Others were grinning, some lecherously. No prizes for what they were hoping for. Gisele was an event favourite.

Sam shrugged mentally as she automatically started pulling at her hand straps, making sure they were secure for a final time, the Favour a stark reality on her arm. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet again, part nervous energy, and part keeping the cold from settling in her muscles. She could do this. She would do this.

The gathered mob went quiet, the Events Master standing in the centre as two opposite corridors appeared automatically to allow the combatants access.

"_Dailey to Taggart."_

Sam released an almost feral growl of frustration as the disembodied male voice cut through the air before automatically saying, "Computer, freeze program." Everything instantly froze, the holodeck now as still as the silence that had proceeded the interruption.

Taking a few breaths to compose herself she subconsciously raised her chin to reply, "Taggart here. Go ahead Lieutenant," her British accent adding a non-existent 'f' to the rank.

"_The Admiral sends his regards, and asks that you please meet him in his office at 1600 hours." _Though she was getting used to the no-nonsense monotone of Admiral Jordan's adjutant, she couldn't help but feel he should have been born a Vulcan, and not the Human he was.

"Understood. Is there anything else Lieutenant?"

"_No Captain, Dailey out."_

Slowly blowing her frustration out though her nose Taggart wasn't sure what was irritating her more right now: the interruption of the final running of her program, or the fact that the lower ranked officer had ended the conversation in a subtle breach of etiquette that was not lost on her.

She was young for a Captain, still a couple months shy of starting her fourth decade, but that was hardly unusual in this post-war Federation she was a part of. Rapid promotion had been a stark reality for too many during the Dominion War, herself included. She had excelled though, eventually being made a Captain a year ago. The unfortunate fact of her promotion was that it was during the Borg invasion, which had left lingering questions as to whether it was too soon.

"Computer, end program."

The myriad of characters surrounding her melted away seamlessly, quickly followed by the actual environment itself to leave her standing in the middle of the characteristic large black and gold cube of an empty holodeck. The leather she had been wearing also vanished, leaving her standing barefoot in her Starfleet issue gym shorts and top.

As she padded over to the corner to retrieve her trainers and track suit from where she had left them, she wondered whether the Admiral's summons meant they had finally decided on an assignment for her. The past few months had seen her commanding the USS _Hercules_ as part of the relief efforts that were still ongoing after the devastation the Borg had wrought. Three weeks ago, she had been inexplicably removed from what she thought had been a smooth command. Deposited at Starfleet Headquarters she had been told to await fresh orders, but these had been slow in coming.

She could only surmise that she was being punished, but for what she had no idea. Yet.

Pulling her sweater over her head, she lightly moved to exit the holodeck, the doors opening with an obedient hiss at her approach. Pausing at the exit Taggart turned to a command panel and tapped a few keys, saving her program to the inserted isolinear chip. Retrieving the chip, she raised her voice to address the empty grid.

"Computer, reengage safety protocols. Authorisation: Taggart Delta Four Six Three."

"_Safety protocols engaged."_

With a nod, Captain Samantha Taggart turned on her heel and strode out onto the pristine concourse that formed just a small part of the vast complex that was Starfleet Headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"The Admiral will see you now Captain," intoned Lieutenant Dailey as he emerged from Vice Admiral Nickolas Jordan's office.

Captain Taggart rose smartly from the plush sofa, subconsciously tugging down her black and grey uniform tunic. After straightening her command-red collar, she nodded to the lieutenant and entered Jordan's office at a relaxed march, halting smoothly a respectable distance from his desk.

"At ease Captain," responded the greying but still vibrant admiral, "and please, let me introduce you." At that last comment, he had gestured over to a conference table that stretched down the side of the room. Already seated along one side were two other admirals and a captain. Controlling her surprise, Taggart moved to the empty length of the table as Vice Admiral Jordan identified those present. Gesturing towards the slender blonde woman seated centrally at the table he intoned, "May I introduce Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev." Having already been told to stand at ease, Taggart had to resist the immediate urge to snap back to attention at being introduced to one of the most senior officers in Starfleet. Instead, she nodded briskly and acknowledged the admiral traditionally with, "Sir." Indicating the white haired man to Nechayev's right, Jordan stated, "This is Admiral Theo Paterson." Taggart again replied with, "Sir," though this time she added the barest hint of a smile to her eyes for the man who had taught her fractal calculus at the Academy 11 years ago. Finally, the athletic brunette sitting next to Paterson's right was introduced, "And this is Captain Paula Hoffman." Being of equal rank, Taggart acknowledged the other woman simply with, "Captain," receiving a nod in reply.

Jordan moved round the table and took a seat on Nechayev's left, indicating that Taggart should also sit. Taggart was aware of the lieutenant closing the doors behind her as she sat opposite Admiral Nechayev. Crossing her legs, she leant back and hoped to appear calm as her gaze settled on the flag officer now contemplating her keenly. After a few more beats of mutual regard, Nechayev picked up a PADD and started scrolling through it, eventually addressing Taggart as she read the data.

"According to your record you have served aboard the _Budapest_, _Ark Royal_,_ Achilles_, and most recently the_ Hercules_. A scout ship, a warship, a heavy cruiser and a frigate. Frontline ground action on various planetary bodies during the Dominion War. Started within Starfleet Security and then promoted over to the auspices of the Command division. Twice awarded the Starfleet Medal of Honour and also a recipient of the Christopher Pike Medal of Valour and the Starfleet Medal of Valour. Further commendations for valour, leadership, and the exceptional creation and application of imaginative tactics."

After a brief pause, the Admiral put the PADD down, entwined her slim fingers on the table in front of her and stared directly into Taggart's eyes as she said, "We are lucky to have such a hero and leader in you, Captain."

Knowing she was not expected to respond, Taggart swallowed her response as her superior continued to watch her. She knew by the slightly far-away look in the Admiral's eyes that she was not trying to intimidate her but rather than work something out, but the wait still grated on her nerves. Especially as it was not just Nechayev studying her, but the rest of those present also.

Eventually, she was told why.

"How are you with peace, Captain?" Nechayev suddenly asked.

Blinking a moment she finally asked, "Sir?" _This was unexpected_.

"Peace. Where we seek out new life, new civilisations, forge new boundaries in the frontiers of science and understanding. Where the drive for technology comes not from being battered to near extinction by hostile forces, but because someone was curious enough to see what would happen." Admiral Nechayev smiled wryly at that point, "This state of affairs that has been demonstratively lacking for almost your entire Starfleet career."

Taggart did not know what to say, so she remained silent. She knew exactly what was being pointed out, but not knowing the underlying reason for her line of questioning left Taggart feeling vulnerable to saying the wrong thing. She also thought that Captain Hoffman had smirked at the last remark, though it might have been a trick of her imagination.

Seeing Taggart's internal battle, Vice Admiral Jordan was personally pleased that the young Captain, his protégé, had not blurted out something just to sate the indomitable Nechayev. He knew Nechayev could abide many personalities, but people who 'sucked up' to superiors just to further themselves were a breed she despised deeply and she had absolutely no time for them.

Finally, the Admiral leant back in her chair and picked up another PADD. "In the aftermath of the Borg Invasion last year, President Bacco recommitted Starfleet towards its founding principles. Namely, exploration." Raising her eyebrows, she peered over the top of the PADD to see if Taggart was following her.

Taggart frowned slightly as she dredged up a forgotten memory, "If I recall, the _Luna_-class starships were re-tasked for long-range missions, and the _Vesta_-class starships fitted with slipstream technology for a similar purpose," she stated tentatively.

The Admiral nodded, "Correct. But that was not the end of it. Or even the beginning." Placing the PADD on the desk she slid it over to Taggart, indicating that she should pick it up, which the Captain did dutifully.

It was immediately evident that the PADD contained the schematics for a large starship, but before she could read further the Admiral continued her dialogue, "When the USS _Voyager_ returned from the Delta Quadrant four years ago, Project Full Circle was created. While the initial goal was to strip _Voyager_ of her Borg technology and refit her for modern service, it then became a mission to return to the Delta Quadrant. To this end, the quantum slipstream technology that _Voyager_ had encountered was fully realised and installed on various starships."

Again, the Admiral paused to see if Taggart was following what she was saying. Taggart was aware of the drive technology and knew that a fleet, with _Voyager_ at its head, had been launched back to the Delta Quadrant recently. She said as much to the Admiral who seemed pleased with her knowledge.

"Precisely. However, there have been drawbacks."

_Why was she not surprised?_

At this point, Admiral Paterson leant forward to explain, "The stresses that slipstream travel places on a ship are extreme, and the energy required to travel in such a manner varies greatly between the designs of each starship. Some starships are completely incompatible with the drive as a result." He gestured towards the PADD she was holding. "This was realised early on, and what you now hold are the schematics for the first, and currently only, purpose-built quantum slipstream propelled starship, USS _Phoenix_."

Taking her cue, Taggart started reading the general specifications laid out in front of her, completely aware that her eyebrows were slowly crawling up her forehead as the picture grew in her head. The _Phoenix_ was designed for a normal operational crew compliment of just over 1000 souls, including civilians and family, with an emergency maximum of 2500. She measured 752.4 meters long, 391.0 meters wide, and 104.7 meters high, and compromised of 32 decks. Both a warp core and slipstream core had been integrated, along with no fewer than 18 phaser canons and 10 quantum torpedo launchers. Quickly doing the maths in her head, this ship was as large as a _Galaxy_-class starship, although longer and narrower. And a hell of a lot more deadly.

"Sir…" she started tentatively, trying to think back to Academy quantum mechanics classes, "This ship is huge. Wouldn't the energy requirements be too great to propel it through a slipstream corridor?"

Admiral Paterson smiled, "You would think wouldn't you? However, it is not the size of the vessel that determines how it travels through a corridor but rather its aerodynamics. Theoretically, a shuttle and a starship could make similar energy demands if their designs were not streamlined enough." Using his hands to visualise the point, he continued his explanation, "Whereas a warp core creates a 'bubble' around a vessel which then travels through subspace, a ship utilising quantum slipstream technology quite literally forces its way through."

Grasping the concept quickly, Taggart shifted uneasily in her seat as she tentatively asked her next question, "What does this have to do with me sir?"

"Peace, Captain. It has to do with peace," chimed in Nechayev.

Jordan almost laughed at the expression on the confused Captain's face but managed to quell the urge. Instead, he explained, "I am sure you noticed that the _Phoenix_ is armed like a predator, but she is primarily a ship of exploration. Her sensors are the best Starfleet has to offer, as are her various science labs. The civilian compliment will comprise of some of the best and brightest minds in the Federation, and the new drive will allow the ship to travel far greater distances than even the _vesta_-class starships are assigned, and at greater speeds, but still be within striking distance of home."

Taggart was now reading through the rest of the extensive technology that the _Phoenix_ boasted; quickly realising her mentor was right. While the starship could conceivably hold her own against a small armada, it was the more peaceful technologies that showed just how state of the art _Phoenix_ was. Starfleet had poured all of its knowledge into this starship.

"So Captain. Do you want her?" Nechayev asked.

She wanted her. Badly. But she could not help but realise that others had more seniority over her to claim such a prize, and were also perhaps more deserving of it.

Running her fingers slowly through her hair she carefully asked the question on her mind, "Surely Sir, there are others more qualified? More… senior?"

"So why you?" Nechayev held Taggart's uncertain gaze a few moments. She had expected the question as it was a natural one in Taggart's position. However, she knew it was vital that the younger woman took her reply on board seriously, because a captain who lacked confidence was a great liability.

The Admiral picked up the PADD with Taggart's service record on it and held it in both hands before placing it before Taggart. "Because everything on this PADD says if _Phoenix_ unexpectedly encountered trouble, which is highly possible in unknown space, there would be a better chance of surviving it with you in command." She watched as her words gradually sank into the young captain's too experienced psyche and knew before she spoke what the reply would be.

Taggart's first nod was almost imperceptible, but it slowly grew into an obvious gesture.

"So when do I start?" Taggart thought Captain Hoffman looked slightly ill during the last few moments, though she did not have the time dwell on it.

It was Paterson who replied with, "Immediately!" The Admiral swung to his right and wrapped his large hands around a stack of PADDs that Captain Hoffman had supplied him with, depositing them before Taggart. Tapping the top one he continued, "Your schedule for the next few days is here. Your Executive Officer, Commander Tesar, has been recruiting the main bulk of the staff for a couple of weeks now, but I told him to hold off with regards to the Senior Staff until a CO was appointed. The one exception to this is your Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Ford. He is one of Starfleet's rising specialists in quantum slipstream technology and has been part of the crew that built _Phoenix_. So you'll need him." Gesturing to his right, he continued, "Hoffman here has been overseeing the final construction of _Phoenix _at the Utopia Planetia yards, and will be able to assist with any issues pertaining to supplies and final outfitting."

Admiral Nechayev excused herself from the rest of the meeting, and the next hour or so passed at an almost dizzying speed as the two remaining admirals and captain brought Taggart up to date with what needed to be done before _Phoenix_ launched in a week's time. Amongst other things, she knew she was going to spend most of it buried in _Phoenix's_ considerable specifications just to even begin familiarising herself with her new command.

Eventually, all the officers sat back in their respective chairs.

"So, that should keep you busy," noted Admiral Paterson.

Taggart chuckled softly, the only sane reaction to the understatement in his words.

"Oh, there is one more thing," threw in the Admiral as he rose from his chair to mark an end to the meeting, "There is currently an edict in place whereby all new commanding officers are to be psychologically assessed for their fitness to command."

This time, Admiral Jordan could not contain his mirth, grinning widely as the undoubtedly courageous captain in front of him groaned at the prospect of what was in store for her. Put Starfleet officers in front of a firing squad and they would generally meet their fate with dignity. Send them to a counsellor and most will hide behind the nearest bulkhead. He certainly could not blame the reaction: the Admiralty were also under the mental spotlight and he had managed to avoid his own particular appointment for two months now.

Paterson continued, a sombre tone to his voice, "While it may just be a formality for you, the recent horrors have taken their toll on many. We have a duty of care to ensure that you're not sent to a distant quadrant as a quivering wreck, now don't we."

Obediently, Taggart agreed.

"Excellent. Your appointment with Counsellor Haines is in your schedule. Be sure not to miss it as it _is_ a condition of your officially accepting command at the launch."

Stepping around the conference table, Paterson held his hand out to Taggart, who accepted it gratefully. "Congratulations Captain. Admiral Jordan and I look forward to reading your future mission reports."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Now, if you don't mind, my wife hates it when I get home late." Smiling, the Admiral turned on his heel and strode out of the office. Captain Hoffman also made her excuses and left, without offering any congratulations, leaving Taggart alone with Admiral Jordan.

Turning back to the Admiral, she observed, "Captain Hoffman doesn't seem to like me very much."

Jordan waved after Hoffman dismissively, "Don't let it worry you. I shouldn't be telling you this, but she was one of the names put forward for the command of _Phoenix_ alongside yours. She'll get over it. Just try not to rub it in, eh?" Then, quite suddenly, Taggart found herself wrapped up in a tight fatherly embrace. He finally let her go and held her at arms-length, smiling fondly, "Congratulations Sam, your parents would have been so proud." He then chuckled, "I've been wanting to say that for four weeks."

Dropping the professional mask she had worn the last couple of hours, a large smile split her face as she replied, "Thanks." She then frowned slightly and asked, "Four weeks?"

"Ah, yes," said the slightly abashed admiral, "It was decided four weeks ago to offer you the command. We let you finish your current refugee run, and then brought you home."

"But that was three weeks ago. Why am I only finding out about this now Nick?"

"You needed a break," he matter-of-factly replied.

"A break?"

"A vacation," he added. She scowled at him for that response, and he smiled back affectionately, "Come now Sam, you hadn't taken any leave in almost a year. We wanted you rested before you took up your new command."

"You still could have told me," she said, wounded.

"And what would you have done? Buried yourself in schematics, crew lists and probably would have pestered the hell out of Hoffman with questions as she tried to finish your ship. What kind of break is that?"

He folded his arms, daring her to challenge his logic. They had had many battles of wills over the years. Secretly, he enjoyed them immensely. She had a startling mind and he was happy to encourage it any way he could, even if it was exhausting at times. He also knew that she had a tendency to overwork, and he was endlessly finding ways to get her to relax more. It was almost a game now.

Taggart glared at him for a few moments before allowing a smile back onto her face, "You win this one. I suppose it was nice to have the down time, even if it was accompanied by a nagging worry I was being punished."

"Ah, yes, sorry about that." He smiled apologetically before moving on to the last order of business for the day, "So young lady, I have strict orders from She Who Must Be Obeyed to bring you home for a celebratory dinner."

Taggart laughed at Jordan's referral to his wife and teasingly replied, "Well now, far be it for me to decline and get you into trouble for insubordination."

Jordan beamed, "I knew you'd not let me down."

Jordan stood by the door and watched as Taggart collected the PADDS on the table. He had attended the Academy with her father, and as young officers they had made a pact that if either of them should die in the line of duty the other would watch over their family. When she was 16, Sam had tragically lost both her parents in the same incident. He had honoured the pact with his best friend and had taken her into his family for the next couple of years until she left for Starfleet Academy.

He had watched her develop into an exceptional officer, like her parents had been, and he had made it his business to make sure she was not interfered with by those who would deliberately impede her success. The naked talent and skill that Taggart had displayed in her decade long career had raised many eyebrows, and some saw her as a threat to their own personal objectives. The raw ambition of some officers still shocked and amazed him, especially when they would step on, or destroy, others in their attempts to rise up through the ranks. He was careful not to show undue favour, especially as it was generally known amongst the admiralty that she was practically his family, but he certainly did his best to keep the political animals away from her. It was not an unusual practice; most admirals had their protégés and protected them as best they could, but it could certainly get complicated at times, especially since Taggart was completely unaware of his machinations.

Presently, Taggart returned with an armful of PADDs and he smiled at the almost child-like glee in her eyes, "Right then, let's get going before you get it into your head to look at those before dinner." With that, both officers left the building for the nearest transporter hub to make their way to the Admiral's home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The coal black eyes of Commander Jovik Tesar observed his new Captain patiently as she carefully read through the last of the crew reports. It had taken most of the morning to go through the list of Starfleet personnel that had requested assignments aboard _Phoenix_. Taggart had been astute and probing in her questions with regards to his reasoning for various choices, but overall had seemed pleased with his work. They were now debating who was to be appointed to the senior staff.

Taggart gestured to her current PADD, "If I am not mistaken, Lieutenant Rigas served on the _Pegasus_ at the same time you were there Commander."

Tesar raised a Vulcan eyebrow and nodded his affirmative. While he was not surprised the Captain had read his service record, her accurate recollection of such a detail after reading over 400 other Starfleet records was noteworthy.

"Yes Captain. I recall him to be an efficient and logical scientist, even as an Ensign. He was perhaps overly flamboyant at times but nothing too extravagant."

Taggart raised her own eyebrow at this little addition. Service records were notoriously lacking in personality so she took the opportunity to probe her First Officer a little further. "Flamboyant? Care to elaborate?"

As Tesar contemplated his response, Taggart sat back and stretched some of the stiffness from her neck. She watched the tall, dark man before her, having found him intriguing in the short time they had worked together today. The only child of Vulcan and Betazoid parents, Tesar looked Vulcan for the most part… until you looked into his eyes. The characteristically Betazoid-black pupils had a depth of emotion that was absent in Vulcans. She had found it disconcerting at first, but as her psyche rewired itself to accept the racial contradiction sitting opposite her she was increasingly more curious. The fact Tesar did not sport a traditional Vulcan hair style probably also helped, though it was still military-short.

"His family is of Greek descent," replied Tesar before adding, "Lieutenant Rigas is enthusiastic about his heritage."

Taggart chuckled at the diplomatically worded description. While Earth had been a united planet for 230 years, there were some sub-cultures that continued to thrive, some more notoriously than others.

"The question is Mister Tesar, is Lieutenant Rigas the right choice to head the Science Division? It is easily the largest division on the ship when you take into account all the civilian scientists that would liaise through him. While no one will expect him to be an expert in all of the possible project requests that will land on his desk, he does need to have the ability to grasp the basic tenants, if only to be able to assign priority to them. Is he capable of such?"

"I believe so Captain. He has shown the ability to adapt to fields outside of his expertise in the past."

Taggart stood and started to pace in an attempt to get some blood back into her cramped limbs. Eventually, she nodded her approval, "Alright then, Lieutenant Rigas it is." She handed the PADD with Rigas' record over to Tesar who made a couple additions to it before adding it to a particular stack.

Still standing, Taggart selected another PADD and checked the information on it briefly. "I agree with your recommendation of Lieutenant Sarda for Security Chief. His record and references are exemplary." She keyed in a few commands to the PADD to authorise the officer's transfer. "He should make a fine addition," Taggart added as she handed over the PADD to Tesar.

"That just leaves us without a Chief Medical Officer," observed Tesar as he sorted through the remaining PADDs to place three before his Captain.

Resting her hands on her hips, Taggart mused over the PADDs a while before gathering them together into a short pile. "There is someone I need to see first before I decide on a CMO."

She half-smiled at the questioning look her first officer gave her before waving it away, "Don't worry Commander, I'm not about to throw a spanner into your hard work. The doctor I have in mind is considered one of the best in the fleet. I would like to give her the opportunity of first refusal."

Tesar nodded his understanding. Most captains he had served under had their quirks, one of which was an attachment to reliable personnel whom they had served with before. He saw the logic in it, and did not begrudge Taggart for not immediately accepting one of his candidates.

"Very well Captain. In that case, I believe I should begin assembling the crew."

Taggart glanced at the chronometer, noticing that is was time for lunch before agreeing with Tesar, "Of course Commander. Have all crew and civilians report on board by 0800 hours Monday at the latest. That should give us 72 hour window to work out any kinks and settle everyone in."

"Yes Sir," responded Tesar as he stood and began organising the various PADDs they had been working with in the borrowed office. "And begging your pardon, but when will you be reporting on board Captain?"

"Tomorrow morning. I am expected on the transport to Utopia Planetia at 1900 hours this evening. I believe the handing over ceremony is at 0900 hours?"

"Affirmative. I shall be finalising the arrangements this afternoon."

Taggart smiled to cover her discomfort at all the formality. Taking command of a starship from launch was definitely more complicated and stressful than just beaming onto one already in service. "Thank you Commander. See you tomorrow."

Leaving Tesar to his numerous tasks, Taggart strode to the nearest staircase and descended to the ground floor, eager to leave Starfleet Headquarters to its business. Exiting the building through the main entrance, she headed down the path towards the Presidio before changing her mind. Looking around to gain her bearings, Taggart started the 20-minute walk towards Starfleet Medical. She could easily ask a holocab to take her, but after being stuck in an office for the best part of the last five hours she was enjoying the fresh air.

Before long, she was clearing herself through the security checks to enter the expansive building that, to her senses, constantly had a chemical smell she could never quite place. Bypassing the seemingly permanent line for the elevator, she jogged up the three flights of stairs before navigating her way down various corridors. Finally, she came to a stop before a plain door with _Lt Cmdr. Dr. C. Hunter_ inscribed on a plaque on the wall.

Taggart gently knocked on the closed door. Momentarily, she heard movement on the other side of the door before a muffled female voice said 'Come in.'

The slender woman sitting behind the disaster zone that was her desk glanced up as Taggart entered, her eyes clouding with confusion for a moment before widening.

"Samantha Taggart! Well damn, it's only you."

Taggart planted her feet and squared her shoulders, folding her arms across her chest in mock fury as she responded, "_Only_ me? Is that any way to greet a superior officer Doctor?"

"It certainly is when they interrupt my lunch!" The slightly greying brown-haired woman disappeared behind her COMM screen as she bent down, bobbing back into view as she deposited an impossibly large submarine sandwich onto the only available space on the desk. With a barely contained smirk, the Doctor gestured towards the other chair in the room before tucking into the barely eaten food.

Laughing, Taggart placed the clutter in the chair onto the floor beside it before flopping unceremoniously into the space. Raising an eyebrow at her friend she indicated the sandwich, "Nothing replicated is that messy. You're getting that everywhere."

The Doctor plucked a piece of tomato that had fallen onto her tunic and popped it into her mouth, "Leave me to my vice, woman." They exchanged grins, their vices a frequent topic of conversation between them. "So, what brings you to my inner sanctum? And without having had lunch first either."

"How do you know I've not eaten yet?"

"Because you're staring at my lunch like you've been stranded somewhere rotten with nothing but field rations for a year." Taking the culinary construction in both hands the Doctor pulled it in two and handed the lower half to Taggart, who received it with a grateful smile. The Doctor waved away the thank you, "If anyone here needs to eat… it's you. You're skin and bone again," she groused reproachfully.

"It's muscle. I've been working out."

The Doctor shot her a knowing look before deciding now was not the time for that particular conversation, much to Taggart's relief. Instead, she urged, "Come on then, out with it. Why aren't you gallivanting about the galaxy as we speak instead of displacing my crap?"

Taggart chuckled. She had missed her very forthright friend more than she had realised, and started talking between bites of lunch.

"I was pulled off the _Hercules _three weeks ago to be reassigned, though they dragged their heels about it. Yesterday they finally gave me my next command, and I would very much like you to be my CMO."

"So, let me get this straight," started the Doctor in between licking some sauce off a finger, not bothering to finish her current mouthful, "You've been in San Francisco for three weeks, and I'm only _just_ hearing from you now?"

"Ahh…" Taggart started sheepishly, "I'm sorry. I honestly thought I would only be here a day or two before being reassigned." She sighed. "If I had known…"

"I know, I know." The Doctor swallowed her last bite and set about trying to repair the damage to her uniform as she spoke, "CMO… on a starship." She glanced up through her eyelashes at her friend as she continued, "It's been a while Sam, and you know why I'm earthbound." She smiled sadly, trying to soften the blow.

"She's a big ship Doc. The crew can bring their families. There are childcare and educational facilities on board." Taggart leaned forward as she softly added for emphasis, "You can bring Michael and Sean," referring to the Doctor's husband and seven year old son.

Deflecting the conversation somewhat the Doctor replied, "They gave you a ship bigger than a fish bowl? Well heck. Times do indeed change."

Taggart leant back in her chair and the Doctor sensed the subtle shift in her friend's demeanour. "I'm sorry Sam that was flippant of me."

Smiling ruefully, Taggart shook her head slightly, her blonde fringe falling across her forehead with the movement before being pushed back into place, "It's not that." She slowly released the tension she had been holding since yesterday, "I have to speak to a counsellor. It seems all command staff are being assessed between assignments."

"And if you fail, bye bye command?" filled in the Doctor.

Taggart nodded.

The Doctor regarded Taggart a few moments before saying, "I'm aware of the requirement." She then frowned at the younger woman as she continued, "I know you think you have good reason to think you will fail the psychological assessment, and I dispute that, but there's more to this you're not telling me."

Sometimes, the Doctor really irritated Taggart with her perceptivity. She knew there was no dodging the accusation.

"Have you heard of the USS _Phoenix_?"

"_That's_ the ship they've given you?" The Doctor's eyes widened appreciatively at Taggart's confirming nod. "Well, what about it? Congratulations by the way."

"It's a science vessel."

The Doctor stared dumbly at the blonde for so long that Taggart actually felt like squirming beneath the scrutiny. Finally, the penny dropped.

"You're scared of commanding a ship whose purpose is science? You? Scared of… science?" The idea was absurd to the Doctor, but, apparently, not to her young friend. Swallowing a few times to collect her thoughts she slowly started probing a little more, "They assigned your First Officer for you?"

"Yes."

"I would imagine he is the ying to your yang? His background is science?"

Taggart nodded.

"So what are you so concerned about? That's how it goes Sam. That's what you get for being so damn good at your job. You get promoted to bigger, better, and quite frankly stranger. But you're not abandoned. You've been given the tools to succeed: your crew." The Doctor shrugged, "use them. That's what they're there for."

"Come with me? Be my CMO again?"

The Doctor sighed wistfully. "We _did_ have fun last time didn't we?" Both women chuckled at the shared memories. She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair a few moments, her gaze automatically drawn to the picture of her husband and son on her desk before she asked quietly, "Would there be a position for Michael?"

Taggart smiled hopefully, "It just so happens there is a vacancy for a botanist with the rank of Lieutenant."

"What a coincidence," replied the Doctor dryly before seemingly coming to a decision within herself, "I cannot promise anything."

"But?" Taggart was on the edge of her seat.

"I'll talk to Michael." The Doctor shook her head in amazement at the face-splitting grin that had appeared on the woman opposite her. "Tonight, I promise. Since I suppose time is of the essence?" Taggart nodded. "Of course it is. Starfleet has no concept of the notion of 'advanced warning'."

The two women chatted amiably for a while longer about family, lost friends and how the Giants were actually winning ball games this year before the Doctor glanced at the chronometer.

"What time is this appointment of yours with the counsellor?"

"1430 hours."

"You had better get going then. It'll take you 15 minutes just to get round to that side of the building."

Both women rose from their seats, the Doctor walking round the desk to embrace the woman that she had a feeling would have her hurtling through space again soon. She escorted Taggart to the door, fully aware of the other woman's nervousness.

Placing a hand on each of Taggart's biceps she held the young woman in place as she looked up into familiar green eyes, "You're a decorated Starfleet Officer, Captain." She smiled as she felt Taggart relaxing, "They don't make you a Captain if you don't deserve it. Even in the heat of battle. And they certainly don't give you a giant petri dish to throw into distant parts of the galaxy if they think you're going to break it. Remember that my friend." They embraced again before Taggart turned down the corridor.

After closing her office door, the Doctor couldn't help but wonder what she was getting herself into this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Captain Taggart was shown promptly into a consulting room by a rather jittery ensign. After being told she would be seen momentarily, she looked around for somewhere to sit. The room was decorated in soft hues of blue and grey, a long sofa stretching along the length of the window on the far side. Low tables were strategically situated for beverage placement and she walked round the nearest table to settle herself on the sofa. She had just finished her casual inspection of what passed for artwork adorning the walls when the door opened, her 'command mask' automatically slipping into place.

"Captain Samantha Taggart?" asked the woman who entered.

"Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Haines?" replied Taggart, deliberately returning the use of rank initiated by the chestnut-haired woman before her.

"It is traditional to refer to someone in my position as 'Counsellor', Captain."

Taggart nodded her assent as the Counsellor moved to sit on the sofa. The Counsellor made sure to retain a respectful distance as she sat and turned to face the Captain. Taggart watched the other woman's dark blue eyes appraising her. She figured the Counsellor was trying to reconcile what she saw with the information she had undoubtedly read in the PADD she carried with her. If Taggart felt like she was under a microscope, she made sure to keep it hidden.

"You have fallen through the cracks, Captain."

"Excuse me?" _Here we go _thought Taggart_._

"According to your record you have not received any counselling since graduating from the Academy."

Taggart, her mask impeccable, remained silent, forcing the Counsellor to continue.

"After-action counselling was rigorously enforced during the Dominion War, and while it was not always logistically possible with all personnel, you should have been required to see us once the war ended."

Taggart spread her hands in a gesture she hoped was placating, "I'm fine."

"How about you let me be the judge of that, hm?"

Taggart bristled quietly to herself, outwardly retaining her calm as the counsellor glanced at the PADD she held.

"In 2376 you were reassigned to Starfleet HQ as adjutant to Admiral Forest."

Taggart nodded, "If I wanted to qualify for promotion to commander I had to spend some time in an administrative role."

"So you grounded yourself to further your career?"

"Yes."

"How did that go?"

"…I got promoted."

The two women held each other's gaze for a long moment. Taggart knew the Counsellor was fishing for information and was more than content to remain minimalistic in her responses to the Counsellor. Eventually, the Counsellor looked back down at her PADD and keyed in a few commands.

"Your use of the holodeck increased substantially during your time on Earth."

Taggart raised an eyebrow in an unspoken _"And?"_ which only served to agitate the counsellor.

In a deceptively mild tone the Counsellor decided it was time to address Taggart's reticence, "Captain, need I remind you that if I do not receive your _full _cooperation I can recommend to your superiors that shipping out next week is not in your, or Starfleet's, best interests?"

Taggart sighed, "Very well, Counsellor," she started, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing, "My holodeck privileges had been severely curtailed during the war, as were those of all those not posted on Earth or a starbase." Taggart casually twisted her hips to face the Counsellor, crossing her legs and draping her arm over the back of the sofa as she added, "I was making up for lost time before being posted back to space."

The Counsellor raised an eyebrow, "Your privileges aboard a starship are no less than at a base posting, war or peace."

"True, but my responsibilities and time constraints increase due to the nature of my rank. The duty shift will end, but you still remain the captain or first officer. Unlike at a base posting, there is no real down time." Taggart gestured nonchalantly towards the door and back to the sofa, "I have also tried to maintain an open-door policy towards my crew, which has a tendency to eat into my personal time."

While both women knew she had just described a command 'ideal', Taggart was aware that the Counsellor would know it to be the truth and not just an empty excuse. The Counsellor would be aware of Taggart's command style, whether in general or through her preparation for this meeting.

Most Starship Captains gained a reputation for their style of command, sometimes leading to waiting lists for various postings if the Captain was respected and admired enough. Taggart knew she was known as a strict, but fair, leader who was open to innovative ideas and creative thought. She was a stickler for rules and tradition, primarily because she knew if she ever needed to break them she would need the loyal background to fall back on. Not that she would admit this.

The Counsellor lowered her gaze to her PADD once again, contemplating what she was to say next. Eventually, she raised the device to a more comfortable level, and began dictating from its contents.

"On stardate 52463.4 you spent two hours in a holodeck which was then followed by a trip to Starfleet Medical. Stardate 52499.6: three hours followed by another trip to Medical. Stardates 52630, 52712, 52784, 52913… and it goes on Captain. In the two years you were on Earth your holodeck adventures resulted in medical treatment no less than 23 times."

The Counsellor threw the PADD down between them on the sofa, "I see a pattern. Do you?"

Taggart resolutely ignored the PADD. She had absolutely no idea what had driven the Counsellor to dredge up this information, but she knew where this was heading. She also knew that all the Counsellor had were access logs. The personal programs that were run by Starfleet personnel on the holodeck were strictly private, as were medical records. The Counsellor was challenging her with circumstantial evidence, however damning it appeared.

"I see my love of extreme sport has been uncovered using entirely unnecessary means, Counsellor." She raised her eyebrow in a half-smile, "You could have just asked."

The Counsellor didn't miss a beat, "Extreme sport in a holodeck does not result in the number of medical admissions you accumulated."

Taggart smiled, knowing that she was not going to be pinned down, this time. "It does if you're an avid downhill skier, ski jumper, or enjoy cross country equestrian. The holodeck safety protocols are good, but not that good." Taggart shrugged as she concluded, "Accidents happen."

"And you're accident prone, Captain?" Haines clearly was not buying it. Taggart was not lying: she did enjoy the sports she had mentioned. She just happened to enjoy other pursuits that had resulted in the majority of the medical attention she had received. Pursuits she would be forced to admit if the right questions were asked.

"I wouldn't phrase it as such, no. But I am definitely committed to what I do. I continually like to challenge and to push myself."

"To the point of recklessness?"

Taggart gestured dismissively, "Hardly. I do not have a death wish, if that is what you are implying Counsellor."

She held the Counsellor's gaze in an unspoken challenge. Changing tact, the Counsellor replied, "It appears you had the same physician for a good proportion of your visits to Starfleet Medical; a Doctor Christina Hunter. You two served together before."

Taggart nodded, expecting the line on enquiry, "Yes. She was the CMO aboard the USS _Budapest_ when we engaged the Borg at Wolf 359. We shared an escape pod."

"I can imagine surviving something like that creates a bond," injected the Counsellor.

Taggart laughed, "She is married, Counsellor." She took a moment to control her mirth before clarifying, "Yes, we are friends. And I am sure you are aware that friendship does not exclude a doctor from treating a patient if they are the physician on duty." Taggart felt the need to add, "She also 'handed' me over to another doctor several times."

The Counsellor nodded her acquiescence, "Granted, no protocols were broken. It _is_ however standard medical practice to report repeat occurrences of similar off-duty incidents requiring medical attention so an assessment can be made as to the health and well-being of the patient."

"_After_ the patient has been initially assessed by at least two physicians to see if such a referral is warranted," Taggart rebuked, retrieving the PADD. After scrolling through the information she eventually dropped it back towards the Counsellor, "Which I was on Stardates 52648 and 53622. You can have my authorisation to ask the good Doctor all about them, if you like."

Taggart leant back and propped her head up with her hand as she watched the Counsellor read the relevant entries. They were the dates for the mandatory annual physicals she had endured while on Earth, which also included reviews of the previous year's medical history and a cursory psychological analysis. She had passed both physicals flawlessly.

Out of ammunition, the Counsellor turned the PADD off and dropped it into her lap, "That will not be necessary, Captain." She stared at the blank screen for a few moments before raising her gaze to the piercing green eyes that were keenly watching her from across the sofa.

"I will sign off on your release to _Phoenix_."

Taggart nodded as if expecting nothing less, her internal sigh of relief well hidden, "Thank you, Counsellor." She stood and pulled down her uniform tunic, clearly expecting her release from the consultation.

"However…" The Counsellor had stood with her and was now walking around to block her path to the door, "as I stated earlier Captain, you have slipped through the cracks. My superiors have thought it necessary that I make myself available to you during _Phoenix's_ initial shakedown cruise."

Taggart's well-constructed command mask slipped momentarily with her surprise as she blinked at the shorter woman.

"Counsellor?"

"I am due to report on board at 1300 hours tomorrow. I believe my requirements have already been sent to your first officer. I look forward to sailing with you, Captain."

Turning on her heel, the Counsellor smartly exited the room, leaving a dumbfounded and slightly trepid Captain in her wake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Captain Taggart was mesmerised by the view before her. Gazing out of the viewport of Spacedock 7 at the Utopia Planetia Fleet Yards, the USS _Phoenix_ stretched out before her, a brilliant white-grey against the speckled black backdrop of space. Every curve was aerodynamic and elegant in its design. She found she had to fight the urge to try to reach out and run her hands along the smooth sleek lines of her vessel.

_Her_ starship.

It was slowly sinking in that the next few years of her life would be spent within the very bulkheads at which she was staring. Small worker vehicles were buzzing around _Phoenix_, welding some plating here, attaching a device there. Knowing where to look, she could pick out phaser canons and torpedo bays. The redesigned navigational deflector array was shining bright neon blue at the front of the drive section, the circular device projecting its glow on any vehicle passing close to it.

Taggart was practically quivering with excitement.

The soft deep chuckling behind her broke her reverie and she turned to address the one who had interrupted the silence.

"I know that look," started a grinning Admiral Jordan, "You're in love."

Blushing lightly, Taggart gestured back to the viewport, "How could I not be, Admiral? She's gorgeous."

Moving to stand next to his officer, the Admiral wholeheartedly agreed. "So, things are progressing smoothly I hope?"

"Yes Sir. Most of the crew will be reporting aboard today, though there are still 48 hours before we will have a full compliment. Likewise with the civilians."

The Admiral nodded before looking at his wrist chronometer. "Well then, I believe it is time for her Captain to report aboard, don't you think?"

"Absolutely, Sir," replied a grinning Taggart.

Leaving the viewport, the pair made their way through various corridors, one of which ended in a cylindrical transparent walkway leading to the USS _Phoenix_. Halting at the start of the walkway, Taggart could see various officers, including her first officer, at the other end. Upon seeing the arrival of the Admiral and the Captain, Commander Tesar ordered loudly, "General Orders!" to which all the assembled Starfleet personnel responded by promptly forming two lines of crew along the walkway and into the starship. Once the lines were dressed, Tesar, still standing at the entry hatch to _Phoenix_, bellowed, "ATTEN-TION!"

Taggart was quite sure the walkway rattled with the force of some two dozen boots slamming down on it simultaneously. She chose not to dwell on that thought too much as she strode down the walkway ahead of the Admiral, as was custom, to where her first officer and a petty officer waited, both ramrod straight. Before Taggart actually stepped onto the ship, she halted. The petty officer raised a small boatswain's pipe to his lips, the metallic musical sound piercing the air as the commander saluted.

Once the petty officer had resumed standing to attention, Taggart crisply returned the commander's salute, both officers bringing their arms down smartly. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Taggart stepped onto her ship, extending her hand to Commander Tesar, who shook it warmly.

"Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Thank you, Commander. I believe you are acquainted with Admiral Jordan?" Taggart moved back as far as space would allow to bring the Admiral into the conversation.

"Yes Ma'am. Welcome to _Phoenix_, Admiral."

The Admiral nodded his thanks as the Commander gestured for them all to proceed down the crew-lined corridor, leaving the petty officer to dismiss the honour guard in their wake. As they walked, the commander explained, "Admiral Nechayev is on the bridge for the final part of the ceremonies. The senior staff are also present."

"All of them?" Taggart asked, "Including Doctor Hunter?"

"Yes, Captain. The Doctor contacted me last night to accept her orders. While she will not be in residence until tomorrow, she thought it prudent she attend this morning's activities. I concurred."

Taggart smiled as the three officers entered the turbolift, Tesar ordering it to take them to the bridge. Chris had told her the good news last night of course, but her presence today was a welcome surprise.

Within moments, the turbolift doors hissed open. Taggart straightened her spine, pulled her shoulders back and strode confidently onto the bridge. In keeping with previous designs, the bridge consisted of more than one level with the turbolift located on the highest, along with the security, science and engineering stations. A pair of ramps curved down on each side towards the viewscreen, the helm station located in a long pit just in front of it. Fleet Admiral Nechayev was currently standing on the central command level, watching the new arrivals. A dozen other Starfleet officers were standing at ease around the bridge.

Knowing that the diminutive blonde Admiral was not known for her patience, Taggart led her party down the nearest ramp and came to a halt two feet before the superior officer. Despite being several inches taller than Nechayev, Taggart felt dwarfed by the legendary Starfleet flag officer.

Snapping to attention, Taggart saluted the Admiral as she said, "Captain Samantha Taggart, Starfleet Service number Romeo-Lima-209-181, reporting as ordered, Sir!"

Admiral Nechayev gave Taggart a brief nod, "At ease, Captain."

As Taggart obeyed, Nechayev turned to an ensign who handed the Admiral a couple of PADDs. Turning back to Taggart, the Admiral raised one PADD and began to read from it.

"Captain Samantha Taggart, you are hereby ordered to take command of the Federation Starship USS _Phoenix_, registration number NX-77142, effective as of this stardate, 59305.3. You shall protect and guide her, and all who sail in her, to the best of your ability. You shall represent and defend the laws, traditions and values of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets to which you swear loyalty. Above all, you shall aspire to conduct yourself with the humility, dignity and wisdom that are the marks of your rank." Nechayev lowered the PADD to make eye contact with Taggart, "What say you?"

Taggart waited the required couple of seconds before replying, "I humbly accept the burden placed upon me and swear to uphold the ideals and principles of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets."

Nodding, Nechayev stepped forward and held out the second PADD to Taggart, quietly adding, "Here are your command codes, Captain."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Resuming her previous position, Nechayev then turned to address the assembled staff, "I present to you Captain Samantha Taggart, the commanding officer of the USS _Phoenix_."

On cue, the cry of "Captain on the bridge!" came from somewhere to Taggart's left and all those present snapped to attention, save for the two Admirals. Ceremonies over, both flag officers offered their congratulations and handshakes before making their way to the turbolift. Once the doors had closed, Taggart looked around at her senior staff and on-duty bridge staff before giving them a lop-sided smile, "As you were."

Taggart stood on the command deck as she sensed those around her returning to their respective duties. Her gaze had fallen onto the Captain's chair. Traditionally, the seat was never sat in during construction until the first commanding officer took the plunge. While she was that commanding officer, she had no idea if tradition had been followed.

Taggart felt the presence at her shoulder before she heard the familiar feminine voice quietly tease her, "You know you want to, Captain."

Chuckling, the Captain turned to face Doctor Hunter's mirth, "There will be time for that my friend. First thing's first though…" Taggart looked around for her first officer and upon seeing him, called him over, "Commander, please assemble the senior staff in the briefing room for 1200 hours. I'd like to officially meet everyone and get an update on our progress."

"Of course, Captain. And where will you be in the meantime?" inquired her first officer.

"I'll be in my ready room," she replied, already walking across the command level to the room off to the right side of the bridge, the Doctor in tow.

Taggart paused a moment at the entrance to her inner sanctum, taking in the large desk facing the door where she undoubtedly would be spending most of her time. Moving around the other side of the desk, she settled herself into the plush office chair before raising an eyebrow at the Doctor.

"Something on your mind, Doc?"

The Doctor gestured towards the chair on her side of the table and, after receiving a nod from the Captain, made herself comfortable, the doors to the bridge hissing closed behind her. Crossing her legs, the Doctor stared off into space for a few long moments as she organised her thoughts before directing her gaze to her waiting friend, "Did you bring it with you?"

Taggart blinked, momentarily confused by the vagueness of the question. "It?"

"Your holodeck program," groused the Doctor slowly.

"That does not concern you," returned Taggart defensively.

"You know damn well it concerns me. I put my _career_ on the line for you, Sam. Quite frankly, I am still doing so."

Taggart pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, scowling, "You could have picked a better time for this, _Doctor_."

Taggart's use of Hunter's title made the older woman sigh with exasperation, "There is no 'better time' with you, _Captain_. I sanctioned the use of it because of your rather extreme reaction to being referred to counselling. I did it as a favour for a _friend_, because I believed it would help you get over your PTSD."

"I do not have posttraumatic stress disorder!" snapped Taggart angrily.

"Not by the strict clinical definition of the term, but you had certain elements of it that had to be treated before they could deteriorate further," The Doctor began to tick off points on her fingers as she spoke, "Hyper vigilance, irritability, disturbed sleep, hyper arousal… do I need to go on?"

"Symptoms I no longer display," Taggart pointed out.

The Doctor inclined her head in acknowledgement, "No, not to the extent you used to after you came back from the war. But the fact is your continued use of the program raises questions. Holo-addiction, at varying levels, is the norm for today's society. No-one will judge you negatively on that, but that particular program was designed for a therapy that should have ended years ago." Hunter paused for a few moments before softening her voice, "Besides, you will not be able to avoid Counsellor Haines even on a ship as large as _Phoenix_. Are you really prepared to lie to her should she stumble across the truth?"

Taggart threaded the fingers of both hands slowly through her blonde mane as she leant back in her chair. The Doctor knew her friend was thinking her words through seriously if only because Taggart was biting her lower lip as she deliberated on what had been said.

She felt a lot of sympathy for the Captain. When Hunter had originally diagnosed the then Lieutenant Commander with what was predominantly a hyper vigilance disorder, the young woman had pleaded not to be referred to counsellors. The intensely private Taggart had put forward a convincing argument that she could recover with the aid of the holodeck, and together they had designed the program. Hunter was not naïve: she knew Taggart had since altered the program to suit other needs, such as the hyper arousal, but she had seen no harm in this. For the most part, the treatment had worked. However, she had not foreseen the addiction that had developed, or her friend's propensity for disabling the safety protocols. While the Doctor had acted within her remit to prescribe the therapy, it was very much the circumventing of protocols that could get them both into trouble with Starfleet if anyone decided to pursue matters.

Taggart lowered her clenched hands onto the desk, her hair now mussed from the toying she had just put it through. Shaking her head, she spoke quietly to the Doctor whilst staring at her hands, "I have not been ignorant as to my… ah… fondness… of the program," she started awkwardly, trying to find the right words. "In fact, I have already decided to delete it." Noticing the Doctor's questioning look out of the corner of her eye Taggart shrugged before sheepishly adding, "I wanted to say goodbye first. So yes, it's in my luggage."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, "Goodbye? To the program itself, or a woman in the program?"

Taggart knew she was blushing, but tried to ignore it, "Both?"

The Doctor leant on the arm of her chair and propped her chin up with the base of her hand as she contemplated the woman before her. She was inclined to give Taggart the benefit of the doubt. She knew that forcibly breaking an addiction before the addict was ready had a significant chance of backfiring, so if Taggart was ready to break the cycle herself, she wanted to encourage it.

"Alright. We can do this your way," Hunter conceded.

"But?"

"But when you're done, call me." Hunter leaned forward and covered her friend's hands with one of her own before continuing softly, "We can delete it together."

Wordlessly, Taggart nodded, grateful that her confident had agreed to be her Chief Medical Officer.

After a few moments Taggart cleared her throat, leant back in her seat as she straightened her hair, and finally pulled her command mask down over her face. The Doctor sat back and took her cue from the woman whose change in demeanour indicated she was now dealing with her Captain.

"So, have you had a chance to visit the sick bay yet?" enquired Taggart.

Hunter shook her head, "That is my next stop once I leave here."

Taggart pulled her desktop computer towards her and keyed it to life. She tapped in a few commands before reading something on the screen, eventually turning back to the Doctor, "If there is anything you deem lacking send a requisition order to Commander Tesar by the end of beta shift today and we should be able to get it on board before we launch in 72 hours."

The Doctor nodded briefly, "Understood. When can I expect you to check in with us?" It was standard practice when reporting to a new posting to submit to the medical staff for a basic physical examination. Captains were not exempt from this practice, and were notorious for putting it off.

"I highly doubt I will have any available time before we launch, so it will have to be once we are under way," answered Taggart.

"That works for me. We should have most of the crew done by then so you'll have a modicum of privacy." The Doctor smiled despite herself; Captains were also not fond of being poked and prodded in front of the crew, so emphasising discretion was part of making sure the Captain kept her appointment.

"Thanks," replied Taggart wryly, "Is there anything else, Doctor?"

"Nope!" came the cheerful reply.

Taggart rolled her eyes, "In that case, dismissed."

The Doctor rose gracefully to her feet and, after one final grin, disappeared through the door leading to the bridge. Once the door had closed Taggart let her forehead drop into her hands a few moments, trying to process the last few minutes. Eventually she sighed and turned to her computer. Entering a command she pulled up the first item that required her attention and got to work.

=/\=

Taggart growled at the replicator before resuming the command glare that she knew could wither a cadet at 400 meters, "All this vaunted technology and the best engineers in the Fleet, and this damn thing _still_ can't give me a decent cup of tea!" The Captain replaced her barely touched cup into the device and keyed in a few commands. The cup dematerialised instantly and rematerialised a second later. Sighing, she took the offered beverage and turned to her rather bemused first officer, who was sitting on the sofa in her ready room.

"What?" prompted the Captain as she moved to sit near Tesar, "I assume you're about to tell me that your Vulcan tea is actually palatable?"

Tesar quirked his eyebrow in amusement, "Indeed, while it is not as satisfying as the real thing, it is acceptable."

Taggart placed her ignored tea on the low coffee table, retrieving a PADD in the process. The last few days had been gruelling with regards to all the preparations for launching the ship. Several civilians had been late reporting in. This had required valuable personnel to go look for them that had stretched their resources in other areas. Some important requisitions made weeks ago had arrived damaged, so arrangements had to be made to pick up their replacements after launch. The issue that had intrigued the Captain the most though was that of a Golden Retriever dog that kept getting lost in the Jefferies tubes. She herself had stumbled across it once during one of her exploration jaunts through the ship that she took twice a day to try and familiarise herself with its layout. Apparently, the dog was highly adept at tripping the door sensors of its home and escaping.

"So, you were telling me about our wayward scientists?" asked Taggart.

"Yes, Captain. All the civilians are now accounted for. The last two reported on board earlier this evening."

"Good. Are they all up to speed with ship's protocol?"

"Lieutenant Rigas has been inducting them in groups of 20 as they report aboard. Lieutenant Sarda has scheduled a series of drills so they know where to go in the event of a yellow or red alert. He intends to simulate battle conditions, evacuation orders, and the possible event of _Phoenix_ being boarded in a hostile takeover."

The Captain nodded slowly. She instinctively liked Lieutenant Sarda Preece, her new Security Chief. The Bajoran was extremely thorough in everything he did, and he seemed to be highly adept at managing civilians. She had no doubt this would come in useful at some point due to the hazardous nature of exploration. She also happened to know, thanks to the impeccable hearing of the Doctor, that the tall, dark, handsome lieutenant was already the ships de facto 'most eligible bachelor'. As far as she knew, Sarda was not yet aware of this status.

"Is engineering ready?"

"Affirmative. Commander Ford's final report should be in your database."

Taggart scrolled through various files on her PADD and found the report. Tesar had already busied himself with other work while she read through the report. She had spent quite a bit of time with her Chief Engineer. While she did not train as an engineer, she still had to have a decent knowledge of the inner workings of her ship, and the commander had obliged by offering her various 'crash courses'. She found the lessons far more productive than sitting in her quarters reading a manual. Truth be told, she also found the man rather exotic as Lieutenant Commander Dekhol Ford was half Naxeran. The obvious indicators of his heritage were the combination of ebony skin, horizontal frills along his nose and startlingly gold-coloured eyes. The most unusual part of his physiology though was that he required no sleep, apparently a Naxeran norm. The slender man also possessed an eidetic memory, adding to his genius.

Reaching the end of the report, Taggart stretched her back before glancing at the wall chronometer, "Is there anything else we need to cover before we launch tomorrow?"

Tesar took a moment to key up a checklist they had been following before shaking his head, "No, Captain. I believe we have covered all we needed to."

"In that case, I think I'll head to my quarters and turn in, Commander," Taggart raised an eyebrow at her diligent officer, "And so should you."

"Of course." Tesar gathered together his PADDs before rising from the sofa. Taggart escorted him to the door of her ready room, "Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Commander."

Taggart spent a few minutes tidying up the ready room before leaving through a different door, avoiding the bridge. As she strolled down the corridor to a nearby turbolift she felt a small flutter in her belly. Things were finally falling into place and her crew appeared to be working well together. She knew there were always little teething problems when a brand new crew came together, but so far things had been smooth.

Now all that was left to do was to launch the ship.

=/\=

Taggart was standing at ease a couple of paces in front of her command chair. Commander Tesar was to her left, with the rest of the senior staff arranged in a line behind them on the upper level of the bridge. They were all watching the proceedings being broadcast on the viewscreen, which so far had consisted of various speeches that most would agree, were too long, too boring, and completely irrelevant to the launch of their ship.

Finally, Admiral Jordan stepped up to the podium to address the assembled dignitaries. Through the viewport behind him _Phoenix_ could be seen in the spacedock. After clearing his throat, the Admiral began to speak, taking the time to make eye contact with various members of the audience as he did so.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today is the culmination of four years of planning and gruelling hard work by Starfleet's finest engineering minds. Not since Zefram Cochrane launched the first Earth warp-capable ship has such an advancement in space travel technology been made." The Admiral inclined his head as he spoke the next lines, "Yes, it is true that some Starfleet vessels already possess quantum slipstream technology. However, none of those ships were designed for it. Compromises had to be made for each retrofit, and the full realisation of our technology is not possible because of it."

Turning sideways to the audience the Admiral gestured towards the ship behind him, "This remarkable vessel is the first of a new generation of starships. She has risen from the ashes of a society that has spent the last decade in the ravages of war. She is the first in a mission that will return Starfleet and the Federation to our founding principles of peaceful exploration and scientific discovery."

The Admiral smiled at the soft applause that sounded, letting it die down before he resumed speaking, "Most importantly, what this new era signifies is the endurance of hope, of our common belief within the Federation that our ideals are worth the significant cost that we have paid, and will continue to pay. It is our hope that gives us the strength to endure and rebuild: to rise from the ashes. As such, it is only fitting that this starship, NX-77142, be named the USS _Phoenix, _both inhonour of the original warp-ship _Phoenix_, and the enduring spirit of the people of the Federation."

As more applause sounded the Admiral invited an elderly gentleman to the podium. Taggart knew he had been previously introduced but couldn't for the life of her remember the man's name. Slowly, they watched as he pressed a small pad built into the top of the podium. The image on the viewscreen changed to that of a small glass bottle being propelled out of a tube at moderate speed towards the _Phoenix_. The bottle, which Taggart knew contained champagne, span lazily end over end in the vacuum of space for what seemed an eternity before eventually breaking into pieces when it finally impacted the hull. Everyone on the bridge applauded the good luck omen as the viewscreen switched back to the proceedings on the spacedock.

"Lastly," the Admiral started, "I leave you with these words that the 19th Century poet, Emily Dickinson, once wrote: _'Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.'_" The Admiral paused to let the words sink in before turning to the address Taggart and her assembled crew via the viewscreen, "Captain Taggart, may your winds be swift and skies be fair. Godspeed."

Taggart responded, "Aye, aye, Admiral." Turning her attention to her crew she began issuing orders, "Helm, request permission to depart spacedock. Ops, retract the docking clamps and cast off the umbilicals. Mister Sarda, open a ship-wide channel."

Both Taggart and Tesar took up their positions in their respective command chairs, the latter busy checking vital systems via an interface. The Doctor, not having any official role on the bridge, took the seat to the Captain's right.

"Channel open, Captain," responded Lieutenant Sarda.

Taggart raised her voice so as to be heard by the ship's communication system, "All hands, this is the Captain. Secure all stations and prepare for departure. Taggart out." Sarda closed the communication signal on cue and returned to monitoring his information boards.

"Utopia Planetia Operations has cleared us for departure on vector 306 mark 192," returned the helmsman.

"Docking clamps are retracted; umbilicals have been retrieved by spacedock. All departments report ready to depart, Captain," reported the operations officer.

Taggart turned her head to look at her first officer for final confirmation of the readiness of her ship. Looking up from his interface he returned the unspoken question with a nod. Smiling slightly, Taggart returned her attention to the front, "Helm, take us out, manoeuvring thrusters only."

"Engaging thrusters," replied the junior lieutenant, her fingers flying over her boards as she inputted the relevant command sequences and made continual adjustments, "Speed: 70 kilometres per hour, clearing spacedock in 40 seconds, Captain."

Taggart glanced down at her own interface before responding to the helmsman, "Set your course at 306 mark 192, speed: one quarter impulse."

"Course laid in Captain. Spacedock is now cleared."

Sitting up straight in her chair, Taggart crossed her legs as she tried to relax through the excitement that was coursing through her body. Succumbing to the half-smile that had been gradually creeping onto her face, she raised her chin to give the final command that would get them underway:

"Engage!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Captains log, stardate 59316.4. The first week of our shakedown cruise has proceeded according to schedule, despite some limitations. Commander Ford has raised concerns that our current orders to remain within Federation space has limited our ability to fully test the quantum slipstream drive, but so far, this is unavoidable. I never thought I would complain about travelling 60 light years in 12 minutes when it would normally take us 2 weeks at warp 9, but I feel the commander is right: we need to go further to really test this ship. Our next step is a 120 light year jump to Deep Space 3 to take on various components that should allow us to begin exploring beyond home._

Taggart placed a hand on the edge of the console as she tried to follow what her science and engineering chiefs were calculating. She had been called to the astrometrics lab for the final decision on a debate that had apparently been going on most of the morning.

"Try narrowing the sensor bandwidth," suggested Commander Ford.

"It's as narrow as it's going to get, sir. DS3 has the rest of the parts we need to finish the sensor array, but until then we are still half-blind during a slipstream jump. The processor is fast enough, but it cannot fully extrapolate object locations with half the data missing," replied Lieutenant Rigas.

"And guessing just isn't good enough," finished Ford.

"Gentleman," interrupted Taggart, "In English. Please."

While Rigas continued inputting data into his console, Ford explained the problem to his captain, "As you know, slipstream jumps work best when a course is plotted in as straight a line as possible. Any course correction to avoid planetary objects, or anything else of significant size, takes you large distances."

"Right," agreed the Captain, "which requires the ability to accurately scan several light years ahead of the ship so we do not come out of the slipstream corridor right into another starship, or worse."

"Exactly," beamed Ford, apparently happy that his superior had being paying attention to his lessons. "Because the array was not completed on time we have been limited to Federation space and destinations that we know are safe. Our exit coordinates have been broadcast in advance and the areas kept clear of traffic by the local authorities so no accidents happen while we test the drive."

"Deep Space 3 _is_ expecting us, Commander," stressed Taggart.

"Yes, but…" Ford turned his attention to his console. After inputting some commands, he indicated that the captain should turn her attention to the large viewscreen that took up most the space in front of them. Raising her gaze, Taggart saw that Ford had put up a detailed star chart of Federation space on the screen. The _Phoenix's_ current position was marked towards the bottom right in the Beta Quadrant, near the edges of the Klingon Empire. After a few moments, a line appeared between _Phoenix's_ current location and stretched across Federation territory to the top left, where Deep Space 3 was located. The flight plan covered 120.5 light years and would take them a mere 24 minutes and 11 seconds. Taggart could not help but be a little stunned by that: the last time she had been near DS3 it had taken two and a half months at warp 6 from a closer location.

Ford isolated an area along the projected path that was about two light years short of DS3 and expanded the image. Immediately, Taggart knew what the problem was, "The black cluster: it's in our path."

Deep Space 3 had been built along the edges of the Federation along the border with the Breen. A black cluster occupied a significant portion of space across both territories. The black cluster was the result of numerous protostars collapsing in close proximity to one another. The area of space became particularly hazardous to spacecraft as it had a tendency to absorb energy and dangerously affect systems. Since both active and passive scans relied on the ability to receive a vast array of energy readings, if that energy were to be absorbed prior to detection it would be as if nothing was there. It was a fantastic, if dangerous, place to hide from an enemy as Taggart had found out during the Dominion war. Slipstream travel also required huge amounts of energy, and should any of this be syphoned from _Phoenix_ because they were passing too close to a protostar it could theoretically pull them out of their corridor into a nasty position.

"Yes, Captain," confirmed Ford, "It only stretches for half a light year in this particular area, and it is relatively mapped."

"But...?"

Rigas now spoke up, "But it will cause havoc with our sensors, completely blinding us for several seconds once we enter the region. We also will not be able to scan beyond the cluster until we have passed through it."

Taggart drew herself to her full height as she crossed her arms, slightly frowning as she did the calculations in her head. _Phoenix's_ slipstream velocity was in the region of five light years per minute. Unlike warp propulsion which operates on a logarithmic scale, slipstream is either 'on' or 'off' with just the one velocity that is determined by the geometry of the vessel. This meant they would only be in the cluster for 6 seconds. It also meant they would have just 20 seconds to finalise the exit coordinates once they emerged from the cluster.

"Options?" she asked. Taggart thought she already knew the available options and her decision, but she needed to show her officers that their opinions were valuable.

By virtue of his rank, Ford spoke first, "We can use current star charts and knowledge of the cluster to program the navigational computer to take us through. It will automatically bring us out of the slipstream corridor at the exit coordinates."

Taggart turned her gaze to Rigas who responded by nodding his head back to the viewscreen. Entering the numbers he had been working on, Taggart watched the previous course change from going through the cluster to going past the right edge of it. The new exit would leave _Phoenix_ just over a light year from DS3. Grabbing a rail, Taggart swung herself up onto the raised platform in front of the consoles to get a closer look at the projection as Rigas spoke, "Phoenix was designed with a sustainable cruise velocity of warp 8. If we bypass the cluster as close as possible and come out here, we can be at DS3 in half a day."

Taggart squinted at the display, "Is the tactile interface active?"

Rigas tapped a key and replied, "It is now, Captain."

Taggart reached out and selected an area on the screen that contained a boundary between the cluster and normal space. Using both hands, she expanded it and began rotating it in three dimensions to view it from all angles. Moving it to the side, she repeated the action with various segments along the probable path through the cluster. Finding what she was looking for she brought the latest segment to the fore and expanded it as much as resolution would allow. Right along the path _Phoenix_ would take, was a blacked out area.

"A sensor void?" Ford asked slowly, uncertain.

"You tell me, Commander." Taggart looked back at the screen and shrugged, "I haven't a clue. These star charts are a good 5 or 6 years old, which by current cartographic standards is woefully out of date. And because we have no chance of determining what it is until our nose is buried in it, we're going the long way round." The Captain smiled wryly, "If you can indeed consider travelling 120 light years in half a day the 'long way'."

Taggart found the steps back down to her officers and patted Ford on the shoulder lightly, "Once the array is up and running Mister Ford, I can promise you plenty of opportunities to make me wish I could duck behind my command chair. In the meantime, forward our flight plan to the helm and let's get going so we're in time for tea." Decision made, Taggart left her two senior officers to their work as she headed back to the bridge.

=/\=

Taggart and Ford paused at the exit hatch to sign off the ship with the on-duty security officer. Normally it was not a necessity but Taggart wanted to make sure that no one decided to grant themselves shore leave when she had expressly forbade it. Once through the hatch they found themselves on an upper ring looking down to a large main promenade that was bustling with activity. After looking around a few moments, the captain moved around to the right, heading for a set of steel stairs with Ford at her heels. As they strode down the promenade, Taggart could not help but notice that as they walked, a path seemed to appear before them through the crowd. Whenever she tried to make eye contact people would avoid her gaze, while others would out right stare at the two officers as they passed.

In due course, they reached an access that had two armed Starfleet Security guards stationed outside. As the _Phoenix_ officers approached, both security guards snapped to attention before the senior of the two opened the door. Not breaking her stride, Taggart nodded her thanks as she passed through. As she led the way down various corridors. Ford asked quietly, "It would seem you have been here before, Captain."

Taggart chuckled, "Indeed, Mister Ford. I spent about 6 months out here with the USS _Ark Royal,_ patrolling the border for Breen incursions during the war. Admiral Holt was in command of the station then. A great man, if you ever get the chance to meet him."

Ford thought a moment before responding, "He tried to make an agreement with the Breen to join us in the war?"

Taggart nodded as she paused at a turbolift, pressing a button to call it to their level, "He was close, so they say. I suppose the Dominion offered them a better deal and they took it. From that moment DS3 became a front line in making sure the Breen did not manage to out-flank our forces." The turbolift arrived at that moment and both officers stepped inside, Taggart raising her voice to direct the turbolift to take them to Operations. The doors hissed shut and they felt themselves start to rise.

"That must have been difficult."

"Oh, it was," agreed Taggart, "If you weren't careful, you'd end up dead in the water and shortly blown to pieces." Thinking back to the black cluster, she grinned. "But we found ways to even the playing field."

The turbolift halted and Taggart led the way into the busy nerve centre of the space station. They were noticed immediately and a young oriental man wearing a command red uniform approached them and held out his hand, "Captain Taggart, welcome board Deep Space 3."

Taggart shook the offered hand warmly, "Thank you, Commander Gong. This is Lieutenant Commander Ford, my Chief Engineer." The two men exchanged nods before Gong called over a man who was just as tall and lanky as Ford was. However, where Ford's skin was as dark as a moonless night, the man who made his way over was paste-white. She could not help but wonder when was the last time this man had felt the sun on his skin.

Gong introduced his officer proudly, "This is Lieutenant Commander Kareem Mussad. He heads up the Starfleet Corps of Engineers division here. Most of the components you are here to pick up are his design."

"Impressive, Commander Mussad," stated Taggart, honestly.

Her chief engineer's negative image smiled at her, "Thank you, Captain. I must say, helping to install these items in person is far more satisfying than shipping them off to Utopia Planetia. Makes me almost glad the couriers were inept."

Taggart quirked an amused eyebrow at the engineer's enthusiasm to crawl around the innards of her ship, "Indeed."

Inaccurately sensing a possible disagreement, Gong decided to step in as he gestured towards the opposite end of Operations, "Captain? My office is this way. We can talk there and let these two get to work on your needs."

Taggart inwardly sighed. This was the bit she generally found tiring: the polite chitchat between two commanding officers. It was deemed 'good and proper order' for a visiting commander to exchange polite pleasantries with the host. When both officers knew each other this generally became news, gossip and outrageous theories. However, when it involved two strangers, as was the case now, it could be awkward. She just hoped he did not invite her for dinner as well.

Outwardly, Taggart smiled politely and followed Gong towards his office. Her chief engineer had already abandoned her for the irrepressible allure of the engineering gadgets and schematics his counterpart was boasting about. She had a feeling there would be a list of 'necessary' requisitions on her desk in the morning.

=/\=

Taggart sat on the sofa in her ready room, legs crossed and feet propped up on the coffee table, and her head leant back as she stared at the ceiling. She was waiting for the Doctor to finish laughing at her expense. Hunter was doubled up on the sofa next to Taggart, feet tucked under her buttocks and tears streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe. As Taggart took a slow sip of her horrifically bitter tea, her friend finally recovered her dignity.

Seeing the disgusted look on Taggart's face as she sipped her tea sent Hunter into another fit of giggles, "You know… you really should add milk to that. It would help." The look of horror Taggart returned at the suggestion made her hold her sides in the effort not disintegrate into hysterics again.

Taggart scoffed at her friend and firmly stated in as British an accent as she could manage, "You do not contaminate such a perfect drink with animal secretions." She frowned at her tea before leaning forward to put it on the table, "even if the level of perfection is lower than standard."

Hunter pulled a face at the description before finally sitting back, red faced. "So, did he _really_ say that?"

Taggart sighed, then nodded. Commander Gong had, as she had dreaded, invited her to dinner last night. During the meal on the promenade, she had noticed people glancing at her again and had eventually asked the Commander why that was. His initial response had made sense: when the Borg invaded, all the locally stationed Starfleet vessels had immediately been recalled to defend Earth and other central planets. While they were expecting reassignments back to the region soon, _Phoenix_ was the first Starfleet ship to visit in nearly a year. He then happened to mention that it could be Taggart herself, and the close resemblance she bore to a fabled mistress to the former commander of the starbase, Admiral Holt. Apparently, during the war, a young daring battleship commander had had a fiery affair with the Admiral. She had flown off one day, never to be heard from again, leaving the Admiral broken hearted.

"So," Hunter began, "is that you?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"I meant, is it based on you?"

Taggart thought about it before responding, "I don't know. Perhaps? I spent quite a bit of time in his office when we were docked trying to sort out repairs, supplies, and persuading him not to throw my crew in the brig for letting their hair down in non-regulatory ways."

"Non-regulatory ways?" probed Hunter.

Taggart stared at her boots as she answered, "It was war, Chris. At the time, we couldn't defend against the Breen energy dampening technology. One hit, and we were royally screwed. So, the crew treated each day as their last." She turned to Hunter with a lop-sided grin, "A couple of bars got trashed. Repeatedly. A few of the crew were arrested for public indecency, mainly with each other. I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to explain to the Admiral that cracking down on it too harshly would destroy what little morale they had left, and was akin to a death sentence."

"I take it you succeeded?"

"To an extent, yes." Taggart admitted.

"And there was a lot of yelling involved?" Hunter enquired.

"Yes, things got a little heated."

"Would you say, 'fiery'?" deadpanned Hunter.

Taggart groaned and threaded her fingers through her hair, "The man was in his 70s for crying out loud. Have we established he's also a man?"

"You always did like them older."

"Christina Hunter!" exclaimed Taggart, rising to her feet and crossing to her desk, "Don't you have someone else to annoy?" grumbled the embarrassed captain.

Before the Doctor could reply the room's communication system activated, _"Bridge to the Captain."_

Sensing a reprieve, she replied, "Taggart here, go ahead."

"_We have an incoming hail from Starfleet coded for your attention only, Captain."_

With a triumphant smile, Taggart hooked a thumb towards Hunter's nearest exit. The Doctor mouthed _'this isn't over!'_ before quietly laughing as she made her way out. Once the doors had closed Taggart responded to her bridge officer, "Patch it through to my ready room."

"_Aye Captain, bridge out."_

Taggart made sure she was comfortably seated before positioning her monitor. Noticing a red light blinking to indicate the hail, she activated it. The visage of Admiral Jordan appeared before her, sunlight streaming through his office windows in San Francisco.

"Good morning, Admiral. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Captain. It's good to see you. Enjoying your new ship?"

Taggart smiled genuinely, "Very much so, sir. Looking forward to really stretch her wings."

The Admiral chuckled before his features turned serious, "I'm afraid that will have to wait a few more days Sam." Taggart felt her heart drop into her stomach. She knew by his tone she was not going to like what he had to say next. Her suspicions were confirmed as he continued, "We have a little situation at Tyber Prime that needs immediate attention, and you're the only ship in the region." The Admiral turned to something off screen and, within moments, Taggart could see she was receiving a download over the comms channel. "I am sending you all the available data on the situation, but I'll give you a brief overview of the problem."

The Admiral sat back in his chair to regard her as he spoke, "After the war, Tyber Prime petitioned to become a member of the Federation. They were impressed with how Starfleet came to their assistance after a Breen raid and subsequent intimidation, and decided that our principles and theirs were a good match. They were assessed to be compatible and an ambassador was despatched to begin preparations for a smooth transition." Taggart nodded her understanding. The Admiral had described the standard practice for applicant planets. Normally, the process between application and acceptance took several years, with Federation officials assigned to make the adaption as painless as possible. The Admiral continued, "However, the Ambassador's health deteriorated for natural reasons and he had to be recalled. Before his replacement could be despatched, the Borg invaded. Since then, there has been a shortage of available diplomats and with so many member states expressing doubts on the security of the Federation, no one has been sent back to Tyber Prime."

"And you would like _Phoenix_ to pay them a visit?" guessed Taggart.

"Precisely. But, it's not that simple." Taggart resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the Admiral explained the complication, "Despite their lack of an Ambassador, Tyber Prime has remained in regular contact with Earth with regards to their progress. They were due to be accepted as a probationary member of the Federation in five months, subject to a new Ambassador that we were about to nominate deeming them ready." The Admiral sighed, showing a rare glimpse of the strain he was under, "Three weeks ago, they missed their regular check in and all attempts to contact them have gone unanswered. Until yesterday when we received a short and blunt communiqué withdrawing their application for membership and severing all official ties to the Federation."

Taggart closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "Admiral, I…" she started, but he cut her off.

"I know you are not a diplomat, Sam. Starship Captains are trained in First Contact scenarios and not in how to wade through the diplomatic quagmire of Federation membership." The Admiral raised an eyebrow at the inquisitive look on her face now that she understood she didn't have to play at being a diplomat. "We need you to go and ascertain _why_ they changed their mind. They understood and accepted the reasoning behind the delay to their membership, and were perfectly amicable about it. Now, they will not even talk to us and we need to know why."

"To what end, Admiral? The government may have understood, but the people may have felt abandoned and changed their minds?" theorised Taggart.

Admiral Jordan nodded, "That is entirely plausible, but there are too many unknown variables that we need to establish before we cut them loose as a prospect."

Taggart indicated her understanding and the Admiral smiled with what appeared to be relief. "When do you want us underway, sir?"

"As soon as you are able. We need to find out as soon as possible what is going on, though you are not to use the slipstream drive. I do not want to alarm them with a heavily armed starship suddenly appearing on their doorstep. It will take you a few days to make the trip at warp, which should also give you time to prepare. They will also see you coming and, I hope, interpret it as the courtesy call it is intended to be."

Taggart nodded, "Understood, Admiral."

"Oh, and Captain?"

"Sir?"

"Be sure to include Counsellor Haines in your preparations. She has some experience with the diplomatic corps.

"Yes, sir."

The Admiral signed off, leaving Taggart wondering if she was going to need to visit the Doctor to get some pain relief for the headache she knew was only going to get worse.

=/\=

_Captains Personal log, stardate 59320.7. The last two days have been stressful, to say the least. While certainly knowledgeable, the Counsellor has made it clear she has no qualms about publically undermining my authority in front of the senior staff. So far, it has been nothing significant, but it certainly grates on my nerves. We have 14 hours before we arrive in the Tyberius system, and I have decided to release some of my stress on the holodeck, lest I unleash it on some poor unsuspecting Tyberian when we arrive._

"Rei!"

Taggart bowed towards her opponent in response to the Japanese command before assuming a readiness stance in preparation for combat.

"Hajime!" the referee ordered as he sliced his hand between Taggart and her opponent as the visual cue for the command to begin. The two judoka circled each other warily, each making feints and grasping attempts towards each other's suits. One of the keys to winning a judo match was to get a good grip of your opponent _before_ they could do the same to you. Sensing more than seeing, Taggart raised her knee just in time to avoid a sweep attempt at her ankle by her wiry opponent. Unfortunately, it had meant shifting her elbows to regain balance and the strong brunette opposite her darted a hand between them and secured a strong grip on her jacket lapel. Mirroring the grip, Taggart straightened her arm in a defensive move that was meant to block her opponent from throwing her in any number of upright ways. The next few moments quite possibly resembled that of a playground brawl by five year olds as the women alternatively made attempts to secure a grasp with their free hand, succeeding only if finding the other's hand each time.

At that moment, Taggart heard the doors to the holodeck draw open. She turned her head slightly to see who had entered, realising too late that her opponent had made another jab for her jacket. Before she quite knew what was what, her opponent had dropped down to the mat, still holding Taggart, and was using the momentum to roll backwards. Taggart fell forward as the other woman stabbed her foot into the captain's stomach, quite literally kicking her head over heels to land squarely on her back.

The referee immediately raised his arm straight up to the ceiling and yelled "Ippon!" to signal the end of the contest.

"So what was that one called?" asked an amused Doctor.

Taggart wheezed softly as she gingerly rose to a sitting position to glare at her friend, managing to respond after a few shuddering breaths, "Tomoe-nage. Or circle throw, if you prefer the English."

"You sound winded. You should rest a bit."

Taggart swatted the Doctor gently on the arm as the other woman sat next to her on the mat. This seemed to irritate the referee somewhat before Taggart said, "Computer, remove characters." Both the referee and victorious opponent vanished.

"What was that about?" asked Hunter.

"You're wearing shoes on the tatami. The mat. It is considered disrespectful," explained the Captain, raising an eyebrow, "As is walking in on a holodeck program unannounced."

"Ah, yes, that." The Doctor shrugged, "I finished my shift in sickbay and wondered if you fancied having dinner with Michael and me. I asked the computer where you were, it said Holodeck 2, and…"

"And you thought you'd check up on me." Taggart finished.

"Can you blame me?" asked Hunter quietly.

After a few moments, Taggart sighed, immediately regretting it as she was still partially winded from the match. "No, I suppose not."

"So, when is the big farewell?" queried Hunter.

Taggart undid her black belt and began folding it as she spoke, "I have no idea. I thought I would have done it by now, but it's just not felt like the right time. It's been busy."

Hunter agreed, "That it has been. Glad I'm not in your shoes."

Taggart playfully wiggled her bare feet, "Shoes just get you into trouble."

Laughing, Hunter watched her friend nimbly rise to her feet before accepting the helpful hand that Taggart thrust towards her. They walked over to a gym bag at the edge of the mat and Taggart began tucking her belt into it before pausing. Unzipping a side pocket, she withdrew an isolinear chip. She tapped it a couple times in the palm of her hand before standing and offering it to the Doctor. "Why don't you hold onto this? When I'm ready, I will come retrieve the program, and you will know when my last hoorah is. And in the meantime, you can stop being the reason I end up flat on my back."

The Doctor was quick in her retort, "I thought that was a good position for you."

"Oh _trust_ me, I prefer quite a different view." Taggart grinned widely as, for once, it was Hunter who was blushing.

More seriously, the Doctor accepted the chip, quickly pocketing it in case Taggart changed her mind, "I'll keep it safe."

The Captain removed her heavy white jacket, wearing a crop top underneath, and folded it into the gym bag before pulling out a faded grey t-shirt and pulling it over her head.

The intercom chirped it's characteristic warning before emitting the words, _"Bridge to Captain Taggart."_

Giving the Doctor a long-suffering look, she responded, "Taggart here, go ahead."

"_Tesar here, Captain. We are picking up a distress call from a vessel identifying themselves as Tyberian. They are under attack by unknown agents and are requesting assistance."_

"From us specifically, Commander?"

"_Negative. It is a general distress call on a repeat loop. We are the only vessel within range to render possible aid."_

"What's our ETA at warp 9?"

"_23 hours, 46 minutes, Captain."_

She had no choice in the matter, even if they may not arrive in time to make a difference, "Alter course to intercept and increase speed to warp 9.5. Meet me in my ready room in 10 minutes."

"_Aye, Captain. Bridge out."_

Taggart pulled on her running shoes and sighed at the Doctor as they moved to the exit, "I'm going to have to pass on dinner tonight."

"There'll be other times." The Doctor gestured at the gym bag, "Want me to drop that off in your quarters?"

"Thank you." Taggart handed over the bag and ended the holodeck program before trotting off down the corridor, waving a hurried farewell.

It took most of the ten minutes to traverse the large ship to get to her ready room, only just arriving in time to hear the Commander ring the door chime from the bridge entrance. "Come in," she permitted as she programmed the replicator for a glass of water. Sitting on the sofa, she took a long refreshing sip before raising her gaze to her waiting first officer, "What can you tell me about this distress call, Commander?"

The Vulcan-Betazoid hybrid cocked his head to the side slightly as he sifted through the information he knew, "Not much more than I told you over the conn, Captain. We are just over a light year away and will not have more details until we are closer. The incident appears to have occurred just this side of the border, before entering Breen space. It is possible they are involved, though that is only conjecture."

Taggart took another sip of water before asking, "Where is the incident in relation to the Tyberius system itself?"

"We are now moving away from the Tyberius system, and towards the border region." Tesar replied.

Taggart frowned slightly. The detour, though unavoidable, would add days onto their arrival at Tyber Prime. Slowly, a plan began forming as she spoke, "We have two _amazon_-class runabouts aboard don't we?"

"Affirmative, Captain." Seeing where his captain was going with this line of thought he helpfully added, "They can comfortably accommodate up to 8 persons and sustain warp 7 almost indefinitely. Would you like me to assemble an away team?"

"Yes. Have the pilot begin pre-flight checks immediately so we can leave once everyone's ready."

Noting the use of 'we', Tesar responded, "Am I to assume you will be leading the away team, Captain?"

Taggart chuckled, "Oh trust me Mister Tesar, if I could hand this one over to you I would do so gladly. Unfortunately, for me at any rate, I have to go. Please contact Counsellor Haines and advise her that her presence is also mandatory."

"Of course, Captain. Would you consent to taking Lieutenant Sarda with you to lead the security detachment?"

"Won't you need him here in case you encounter any hostilities?" questioned Taggart.

Tesar stated matter-of-factly, "While there are others capable of manning the security station adequately, Lieutenant Sarda is the most qualified person to entrust with your safety, Captain."

Taggart couldn't fault the logic and agreed to be accompanied by her security chief. She left the rest of the arrangements in Tesar's capable hands so she could return to her quarters to shower, change, and grab her prepared holdall bag. She was used to requiring one at short notice so always kept one packed and ready to go. She was striding through the shuttle bay towards the runabout where all the activity was occurring within 25 minutes of leaving her ready room. On arrival, she was pleased to see Lieutenant Sarda and three security guards already stowing their packs in the habitat section.

"Captain on deck!" cried one of the guards, all four straightening to attention with military ease and precision.

"As you were. Lieutenant, are we ready to depart?"

"The pilots are running through their checks, and we are waiting on the arrival of Counsellor Haines, Captain."

"Get her down here ASAP. I'll be on the flight deck."

"Aye, Captain." Sarda replied, Taggart already moving through to the next section that was home to various scientific stations and the main cockpit. Before the pilots could rise, she bade them to remain seated and continue through their routine. She took a seat at the operations station facing the wall and began cycling through the short activation sequence required to prepare it for use. Shortly, Lieutenant Sarda arrived and began preparing the security station in a similar fashion.

"Pre-flight sequence complete, Captain," stated the lead pilot, a junior lieutenant. Counsellor Haines chose that moment to enter the flight deck.

"Glad you could make it, Counsellor," drawled the Captain, tapping the comms badge on her chest before the other woman would have a chance to reply, "Taggart to bridge."

"_Bridge here, Captain."_

"Drop us out of warp. We're ready to go."

"_Understood. See you in a few days."_

"Mind that you do, Commander. Try not to dent my ship while I'm gone. Taggart out." She wasn't sure whether the attempt at humour was for her own benefit, or his, but she was definitely nervous about leaving her ship. Separation anxiety from an inanimate object? She knew she had to keep that little gem from the woman currently idly occupying a science station.

Taggart could feel the change in the ship as they dropped out of warp. Turning to the pilots she ordered, "Right, let's go." She sat back and watched as the shuttle bay doors retracted, a force field preventing the atmosphere in the bay from violently decompressing out into space. After some banter between the pilots, a voice finally came over the comms system, _"Bridge to runabout _Napo_, you are cleared for departure."_

The co-pilot replied, "Acknowledged, bridge. _Napo_ out."

Gracefully raising the runabout from the deck, the pilots eased the Napo through the force field, and then beyond the perimeter of the ship. Laying in the prearranged course, they aligned the small vessel in the right direction before awaiting their final order from the Captain.

Taggart couldn't help but feel like she had left a part of her behind as she gave the order, and they went to warp.

=/\=

It was several hours later before she was notified that they were finally entering the Tyberius system and were dropping out of warp. Though she had managed to get some rest, Taggart had spent the last couple of hours going over the information Admiral Jordan had given her. Tyber Prime was an M-class planet that was second from the sun in a system of six planets. The third planet was an L-class variant, and mostly habitable for the Tyberians, but they had chosen not to occupy the planet for unknown reasons. The rest of the information mainly dealt with local customs that she and the crew would have to adhere to during their stay.

Taggart had just finished her latest read-through when the runabout rocked violently, the lights immediately dimming in reaction to an automatic red alert. Grabbing various handles for stability she quickly made her way to the flight deck, barking out, "Report!" as she found the operations seat she had occupied at the launch.

Sarda was the first to respond, "A Breen scout ship has opened fire on us, Captain. They were hiding behind a moon belonging to the the outer planet. Shields are at 82%." Just as he stated that, another burst of fire shook the runabout, "Shields at 65%."

"Return fire! Helm, get us out of here!" ordered Taggart.

"Warp engines are not responding! Executing evasive pattern Theta-1," replied the lead pilot, loudly. Taggart knew that Theta-1 referred to using moons and asteroids as obstacles to try to prevent a weapons lock by an enemy in pursuit. She also knew they were out gunned, and could not dodge the Breen forever.

She tried hailing Tyber Prime for assistance, but they were stubbornly quiet. She knew they would be able to detect the weapons fire, and even identify it, but for some reason they were content to let the battle play to a natural conclusion. Cursing them silently, she felt the runabout's inertial dampers strain under the stresses being thrown at it by the evasive manoeuvres. The result was she was being pushed and pulled against her seat when she should not have felt the movement at all. Managing to focus on her board, she sent out a distress signal to anyone nearby. Unfortunately, the systems on the runabout were far weaker than a starship and she knew the _Phoenix_ was too far away to pick up their distress call.

"Shields at 51%."

"Helm, alter course to the Class L planet. The scout ship isn't designed for operations within an atmosphere; we are. Try to disguise our course."

"Aye, Captain," came the strained reply, both pilots working hard at their consoles.

As they got closer, Taggart was able to use the sensors to report on their target's weather, "I'm reading heavy ionisation in the atmosphere of the Class L planet. There's a massive electro-magnetic storm in progress through the upper layers."

The Counsellor, who had been quietly gripping onto the darkened science panel through the excitement, asked, "Can we go round and land on the other side?"

"There's no time ma'am!" Came the reply from the co-pilot.

Taggart knew he was right and began making preparations, "Reversing hull polarity and securing the warp core. Everyone strap in for atmospheric entry!" Taggart had ordered the latter command over the comms system in hopes that the security guards in the habitat compartment were able to secure themselves. She was already pulling on her harness, glancing round to make sure those around her were too.

The runabout darted behind a moon orbiting the target planet, momentarily disappearing from the Breen's immediate view. Pressing the advantage, the pilots forced the runabout into full impulse in a dash for the planet's atmosphere. As soon as they began atmospheric entry, the runabout began shaking with the increasing turbulence.

"Disengaging impulse engines, bringing thrusters online!" cried one of the pilots, having to yell over the rising noise the rushing air made.

Taggart was monitoring their entry, "Hull temperature is rising too fast!"

"Compensating!" replied a pilot.

"Captain, the Breen have foun—" the runabout was hit heavily, resulting in some consoles sparking and smoke beginning to fill the compartment. While Taggart knew the ventilation systems would kick in, she was still coughing to clear her lungs. Before she had a chance to do anything else, another blast rocked them. Alarms began sounding and Taggart felt her body suddenly weigh several times what it normally did as she was forcibly slammed against her console, the inertial dampers failing.

Sarda was having trouble accessing his panel due to the forces pressing him into his seat, but was somehow managing to read the displays, "Shields at 12%!"

"We're in a flat spin! Thrusters are offline!" yelled a pilot.

"Hull stress at 25 Teradyne's and rising!" Sarda added.

Not quite knowing how, Taggart managed to move the hand under her body to input some commands, "Redirecting power to the structural integrity field."

"It's not enough!"

"Redirecting life support!" she added.

"We need to deploy the blades!" stated a pilot.

"No! If you do that in a flat spin you'll sheer them off!" replied the other.

Taggart was having issues breathing as she tried to prevent herself from being crushed into her console, "Use a burst of impulse power to force a nose dive!"

"We risk igniting the charged ions in the atmosphere and destroying ourselves!" screamed the younger pilot.

"Would you prefer we be ripped apart?" retorted Taggart, "That's an order!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Taggart could see the lead-pilot crawling for position on his console, the g-forces constantly pulling his momentum in the opposite direction. She knew he was trying to time the impulse ignition with their inertia and spin. A few moments later he yelled "Engaging impulse!" and stabbed wildly at his panel, hitting his mark.

The runabout lurched forward, the extreme pressure trying to force her to the back of the flight deck, only her harness preventing that outcome. While the moment was brief, she was quite sure she felt a rib or two snap, the pain indistinguishable from what had already been dealt to her body by the punishing g-forces.

"It worked! We're in a nose dive!"

"The Breen have broken off their attack!" reported Sarda.

Taggart was gritting her teeth as she responded sarcastically, but quietly, to herself, "Oh good."

"Deploying aerodynamic blades!" The vibrations in the runabout grew more intense as the air resistance was suddenly increased with the new wings.

"Pull the nose up!"

"I'm trying! Thrusters are still offline!"

"Calculating optimum glide trajectory! There, ease her into it."

Leaving her pilots to do what they knew best, Taggart tried scanning the terrain for any suitable landing site. She was intensely aware of the approaching sea of tree canopy below them.

"There's a clearing 6 kilometres up ahead. Think you can make it?" she pressed a key and sent the coordinates to the helm.

"It's all we've got!" came the reply, and she felt the runabout bank slightly to the left, the sound of rushing air almost deafeningly loud.

"We're coming in too fast!"

"Pull up!"

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"_Captain?"_ The voice pierced the darkness as a sharp light through her mind. She wanted to ignore it and return to the soothing black void that was beginning to coalesce around the interruption. There was a calm peace in the void that she desperately wanted to wrap around herself like a blanket and just surrender to it.

"_Captain!"_ The light was much brighter now. She tried to turn away, the action resulting in a bolt of pain exploding in her mind. Groaning, she tried to pull her hand up to press against her forehead in a vain attempt to lessen the agony.

"_Slowly does it, Captain."_ She felt someone take hold of her wrist and gently guide her hand to her intended target. She could feel something heavy on her shoulder, followed by a pressing on her neck, which was immediately followed by the unmistakeable hiss of a hypospray. Immediately, the fog in her mind began clearing. The voice carried on talking to her as she regained her senses and tried to process the sounds that were now assaulting her.

"Hang on Ma'am; I'm not quite done healing this gash on your forehead." Managing to open her eyes, she finally identified the speaker as one of the security team, Chief Petty Officer Malory. He was holding something over her forehead and moving it back and forth. She started feeling a warm sensation, accompanied by the extreme irritation that she associated with regenerating tissue and skin. Resisting the urge to scratch, she let him finish using the dermal regenerator on her as she used her eyes to look around. She could see bright flashes periodically sparking to life behind the chief from a damaged console. The hull of the runabout had failed, the beams of daylight haphazardly slashing through the darkened interior bore testament to that.

Malory shortly pulled his hand away, and gave her a concerned look. She gave him a small smile of thanks before gingerly testing the movement in her limbs and muscles. Pressing her hand against the console she had collapsed against, she gradually sat back in her chair, noting that at least the runabout was the right way up. As she straightened her neck, another bolt of pain sliced through her forehead. Hissing, she pressed her hand against the area, the pain disorientating her, as Malory moved forward to support her.

"You have quite a severe concussion, Captain. I managed to heal all your dermal injuries, and two broken ribs, but there is nothing I can do for the deep bruising and concussion. I have given you something to help with the pain and dizziness." Malory was carefully watching her movements, continually scanning her with a medical tricorder. She found it comforting that he was so diligent.

"Thank you, Chief. How long was I out?" she asked, her throat a little raw.

"About 30 minutes." She winced at his response, knowing he was not exaggerating the 'severe' part of her concussion.

Slowly turning her head, she began looking around more fully as she asked, "What's our status, Chief?"

Malory was a thorough professional in his response but her experienced ear caught the strain and worry in his voice, "Crewman Thompson is dead. Lieutenant Spears is in a bad way," he stated as he nodded towards the front of the flight deck. Following his gaze, she had to force herself to take in the mangled helm of the runabout. While they must have managed to land in the clearing, their momentum had caused the runabout to slide across it and carve a path into the forest. The force had collapsed the front of the runabout, pinning the lead pilot to his seat. Part of the forest had also penetrated through the weakened hull and viewport, adding to his injuries.

Malory rose from where he had been squatting at the Captain's feet and picked his way through the wreckage to the stricken pilot. As he began monitoring the lieutenant with his medical tricorder, Taggart reached under her console and pulled a standard tricorder from a compartment. She began scanning the surrounding area as Malory resumed his report, "The rest of the crew suffered numerous burns, abrasions and minor broken bones. Lieutenant Sarda is taking care of those injuries in the habitat section. We put Thompson in a stasis field on a sleeping rack for now." Taking a deep breath, Malory continued, "The runabout is a wreck. Even with a team of engineers, she will not be leaving the ground again."

Taggart frowned at the results she was seeing on her tricorder before looking up. She took in Malory's dishevelled uniform, dried blood evident around the cuffs of his sleeves and down the front of his tunic. She realised she looked no better and nodded slightly towards the pilot, "Can we move him?"

"I wouldn't recommend it Ma'am. He has severe organ trauma and crush injuries. While I have managed to stop most of the bleeding, the console is preventing me from treating his legs. Pulling him away could send him into shock as his heart tries to cope with pumping blood back into his legs." Noting the slightly surprised look the Captain shot him, his face softened into a half-smile as he modestly explained, "I picked up some experience in medical triage from the front lines." Looking at Malory more closely, Taggart realised he was a good decade older than she at least, and indeed old enough to have taken part in the Dominion War.

"Understood, Chief. However, recommendations aside, can he be evacuated?"

Malory pulled a small sensor out from the top of the tricorder and began passing it over various parts of the lieutenant's body. He changed a setting on his tricorder and repeated the scan before raising his eyes to address his Captain, "Yes, Ma'am." She knew there were many unspoken 'but's' in that response but if her own scans were correct, they would have to take the risk. She had made too many of these decisions in the past, and they never got any easier. Right now though, she had good reason to believe that if they did not move him he would die soon anyway.

Slowly and gingerly, Taggart stood from the seat, the severed seat belt having been cut by Malory, and promptly found herself fighting a wave of nausea. Noticing Malory's movement out of the corner of her eye, she stalled him with a raised hand. A minute of deep breathing later, she straightened and moved away from the console. Practically every muscle ached, some more vibrantly than others, and the pain in her head was in a league of its own. Despite this, she turned to Malory and quietly ordered, "Stabilise him as best as you can, then find something to cut away the console and bulkhead. When you are ready to free him, call for help. We'll be evacuating as soon as we are able to do so." To his credit, Malory did not flinch at her orders. He immediately acknowledged them and started working on Lieutenant Spears' injuries. She found she very much liked the consummate solider before her: he accepted she had her reasons for the decision, and put his faith in her to get them out of this mess.

Using the bulkheads for balance, Taggart made her way to the back of the flight deck and walked carefully through the corridor that led to the habitat section of the runabout. Stopping at a wall panel, she tried interfacing with the computer to try to ascertain the stability of the warp core but she was met with stubborn silence. With main power offline, she was going to have to improvise another way. Biting back another wave of nausea, she pressed on towards the sounds she could now hear from the habitat section.

Reaching the doorway, she paused to take in the scene before her. Counsellor Haines was sat on the table that Taggart had been working at before the attack, cradling her left arm across her abdomen. Sarda was scanning the limb with a medical tricorder. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he retrieved a sanitiser from beside the Counsellor and began passing it over a nasty looking burn on the side of her neck and face, preparing it for the dermal regenerator. A loud banging and crashing brought her attention towards the back of the habitat where the third surviving member of the security detail, Crewman Parry, was sorting through their supplies. Taking a few moments to note the tears in his uniform that signified healed injuries, she looked around for the other pilot. She found him on the floor, back against the bulkhead, his face vacant. Ensign Cahill was young, she knew. Too young. Since Starfleet had lost some 40% of their strength during the recent Borg Invasion, they were pushing hard to replace their losses. This meant that the normal four years it took to complete Starfleet Academy was now a very brief two, and new officers were being assigned duties they were not fully prepared to deal with. It had happened in the war as well, and she knew the only way to snap the kid out of his shock and despair was to force him to fall back onto the limited training he already had. In short, she had to be the scary intimidating captain that all cadets were taught to fear. As he was scrambling about to complete her demands in order not to piss her off, he would hopefully push past his terror.

It was show time. She stepped fully into the habitat to make her presence known and loudly snapped, "Report!" The effect was immediate on all present, and she tried not to be too amused at the ensign practically flying out of his skin in the attempt to rise to attention. Lieutenant Sarda, for his part, did not even flinch as he carried on treating the Counsellor. She suspected he knew she had been there the whole time. Whilst passing the dermal regenerator over the Counsellor's face he asked Taggart, "I assume Chief Malory has informed you about Crewman Thompson?"

Taggart's gaze went to the walled off area where the sleeping bunks were located before responding, "He did."

Sarda continued, "Main power is offline, as is the computer mainframe. Crewman Parry managed to seal a coolant leak before it became serious enough to cause a warp core breech, and is now tasked with taking an inventory of our supplies." He exchanged the dermal regenerator for the medical tricorder and scanned the freshly healed pink skin the Counsellor now bore, "All injuries have been attended to, and while the healed fractures will need to be checked over by a doctor when we rendezvous with _Phoenix_, they are all adequately healed. There were no complications."

Taggart, who was trying to resist the urge to rest her body against the bulkhead, noticed the ensign was still rigidly at attention. Taking pity on him, she walked over and told him to stand easy before asking, "Ensign, do you know what a standard Starfleet survival pack consists of?" This caught the other officers' attention and they turned their heads to listen.

"Y-yes Ma'am!" stammered the young man.

Taggart nodded, "Good. Retrieve seven of them from the storage lockers and check all of their contents. Once that is done, I want seven sets of type two phasers, their holsters, and two spare power cells for each on this table. Got that?"

"Yes Ma'am!" confirmed the ensign.

"Right, get to it." Taggart watched as the ensign half-ran to the access corridor she had just come down and disappeared through the door in the direction of the storage lockers. Turning, she saw Sarda and the Counsellor patiently waiting for her orders. Approaching them, she explained, "We're abandoning the shuttle. Make sure you leave behind anything non-essential." She could see the question in Sarda's face and interrupted him before he could start by holding out her tricorder to him, "Lieutenant, I would like you to confirm my scans please, and then break out four compression phaser rifles." Sarda took the offered tricorder and nodded his understanding, immediately setting about his task.

As Taggart turned to address the Counsellor, Haines stated, "Abandoning the runabout is against Starfleet protocols."

Sighing inwardly because they did not have time for this Taggart simply said, "Your objection is noted Counsellor. Now, please prepare three full first aid kits to take with us. They might come in useful." Expecting her order to be followed, she turned to locate the crewman and started walking towards him.

The Counsellor was not going to let the matter rest and continued quoting protocol to Taggart's back, "Captain Taggart, the runabout is a vital source of shelter and supplies. Abandoning it should not be the first course of action."

Taggart had had enough. Turning on her heel, catching the back of a chair to maintain her still precarious balance, she crossed the two paces back to the Counsellor. Purposefully invading the shorter woman's personal space she knew she was broadcasting her anger very publically as she quietly hissed to the other woman, "Counsellor Haines, I am the commanding officer here, and you have been given a direct order."

Straightening her back, the Counsellor did not back down, "You are compromising our safety by abandoning ship. Perhaps you are not fully recovered from your head wound but I believe your actions are reckless."

Taggart was speechless, and borderline furious. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she was aware that her concussion was contributing to her irritability and various other physical issues she was having, but she was not being reckless. At that moment, Sarda stepped forward and held the tricorder out to the Captain, "I have confirmed the readings, Captain. I concur with your conclusions and shall prepare the rifles." Taking the tricorder from him she nodded, feeling vindicated. As he moved off to the side to open the weapons locker she felt, more than actually knew, that he was monitoring the conversation between the two women in case he needed to intervene.

Turning back to the Counsellor, the Captain began to explain tersely, "The atmospheric disturbance we passed through before we crashed is an electro-magnetic storm. It appears this planet has a highly charged atmosphere. This makes it prone to large EM storms that can be almost global in size, especially during the summer season, which is now. Once we passed through the storm, the Breen left us alone not because they thought us dead, but because the storm interferes with scanning equipment. Effectively, they could no longer see us. As of right now, the storm is still occurring and they will remain blind for the next five hours. They have no idea that we have survived. Understand?" She waited for the Counsellor to nod before continuing, "While the storm is still interfering with the tricorder scans, it is possible to recalibrate it to cancel some of the effect over short distances. It would appear that within a radius of 20 kilometres from our position there are three significant dampening fields in effect. Do you know what all of this could possibly indicate, Counsellor?"

Taggart stared at Haines, not seeing any sign of the comprehension that Sarda had shown. Eventually, the Counsellor confirmed this, "No. I don't know."

Nodding, Taggart outlined the interpretation she and Sarda had both wordlessly arrived at, "When that storm clears, the Breen ship in orbit will be able to scan the surface. They will realise that we are alive. While they are incapable of atmospheric flight, they are more than capable of bombarding the runabout from space." Finally, the Counsellor's eyes widened as she began to understand that her safe haven was anything but that. "And if that wasn't motive enough to abandon ship, those dampening fields have a recognisable Breen signature. Regardless of why they are here, there are certainly Breen soldiers on the planet surface who can reach us before the storm clears. If they have detected us, they will already be on their way here, and I for one do not plan to be here when they arrive."

The Counsellor had paled considerably, appearing to realise for the first time that she had crossed a line when she had confronted her superior without all the facts to hand. Eventually, she said, "I'm sorry I questioned your command."

Taking a calming breath, Taggart intensified her gaze on the Counsellor and said very quietly, "Let me make this absolutely clear to you Counsellor: this is the _only_ time I will explain myself to you in such a manner. If you _ever_ refuse a direct order again without due course I will throw you in the brig for insubordination even if I have to build one myself. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain," Haines half-whispered.

"You are also to stop questioning me in public, understood?"

The Counsellor nodded. Taggart forced herself to relax slightly and softened her voice as she carried on, "I am not closed to advice and opposing opinions, Counsellor. However, I am the captain of a starship, and as such must retain an amount of respect and absolute command. I work hard to foster the trust that exists between me and my crew, and such open insubordination and disrespect damages that relationship. One day, that could lead to a hesitation that gets us all killed. I will _not_ tolerate it any longer."

"Understood, Captain." Haines was speaking with more confidence now and Taggart nodded, deciding it was time to get back to work.

"Right then, Counsellor. Three first aid kits please. And please prepare two stretchers so we can take our dead and wounded with us." Without waiting for a response, Taggart turned towards Crewman Parry and swallowed another bout of nausea. Heading over to the young man, she hoped to recruit him to help find a way to lock down the computer from enemy hands without main power.

=/\=

Tesar stood from his command chair and turned to face the security station to his right, "Lieutenant Faulks, status report."

"The _Delora_ has remained stationary for the last hour. The Breen battlecruiser that was previously attacking it is now off its starboard bow but has not resumed hostilities. The area of space they presently occupy is not claimed by any known species," reported the security officer.

"Helm, how long until we reach the Tyberian vessel?" Tesar enquired.

Junior Lieutenant White promptly responded, "Nine minutes and 24 seconds, Sir."

"Sir," injected Faulks, "we have just entered their communications range."

"Open a secure channel," replied Tesar. Looking back to the lieutenant, he waited until the signal for the open channel was given and then faced the screen. "Tyberian vessel _Delora_, this is Commander Jovik Tesar of the Federation starship _Phoenix_. We are here in response to your distress call. How may we be of assistance?"

The viewscreen began flickering and eventually the distorted image of a humanoid male gesturing to someone off to the side became apparent. He had two bony ridges that began at the outside corner of his eyes, threaded past his temples, over his cranium and down the back of his neck where they fused with his spine. Between the ridges was thick black hair that was pulled back into a high ponytail. His clothing was colourful and rich, though everything about him was currently dishevelled. The scene behind him was one of controlled chaos as people worked to contain the damage that had been sustained during the attack. The man turned to face the screen and spoke with a sense of urgency, "Commander Tesar? A Starfleet vessel? Please, my name is Premier Bel Sordat, of the Tyber Congress. We request asylum with the Federation!"

Not showing his surprise at the request, Tesar calmly replied, "Asylum from who Premier, and on what grounds?"

The Premier's voice rose as he tried to contain his fear, "From the Breen, Commander. They have unofficially annexed our system. The people on this ship are refugees, and we were trying to make it to Federation space but were intercepted by the Breen before we could reach it. We have been boarded; we are barely holding them off from our vital systems. Please you have to help us!"

Tesar took a moment to consider his options. If he crossed into free space to defend the _Delora_, it could be interpreted as an act of aggression on the part of the Federation. While the _Phoenix_ was more than a match for the battlecruiser, it could be deemed an act of war, and a violation of the Prime Directive. He was also only legally able to provide asylum from Federation territory, whether it be marked by a line on a star chart, or on board a starship. He quickly realised that the Tyberians would have to, literally, come to them.

"Mister Faulks," Tesar began with the channel still open, "how far is the _Delora_ from Federation space?"

The officer tapped a few keys and replied, "36 million kilometres, Sir."

Tesar turned back to the screen, "Premier, what is the state of your propulsion systems?"

"Our warp drive is offline, but we still have impulse. With our shields down we couldn't outrun them though, so we stopped."

Tesar nodded, a plan forming in his mind, "We will be at the border in four minutes. It should take you only two of those minutes to rendezvous with us at full impulse. Once you are in our space we can extend our shields around you and grant you asylum."

"They will blow us to pieces before we get anywhere near you!" exclaimed the Premier.

"Doubtful, Premier. If you engage your engines at full impulse with no prior warning, you should catch them unawares. It will take them a few seconds to notice your course, and then they will most likely not fire upon you until they have transported their boarding parties back to their ship. That should take at least 90 seconds. We are sending you some details on how you can confuse their targeting scanners briefly enough to survive the rest of the way." Tesar nodded to Faulks to carry out that particular order and was pleased to see him already performing that task.

"And if they decide to fire on us anyway?" The Premier was understandably panicked.

"That is a risk that only you can decide is worth taking, Premier. Our ETA is now three minutes, so if you wish to retain the element of surprise you must engage your engines within the next minute before the Breen detect our presence."

The Premier was now gesturing to people off the screen as he spoke, "Well then, Commander, we shall see you soon. I hope."

"Good luck, Premier. _Phoenix_ out."

With the channel closed, Tesar returned to his command chair, "Helm, bring us out of warp 500,000 kilometres from the border. Make sure we do not cross into free space."

"Aye, Sir," came the response.

"Mister Faulks, prepare to extend our shields around the _Delora_. Divert whatever power you need to maintain the shield's integrity. Charge the phaser canons and ready torpedoes, just in case the Breen decide to pick a fight."

"Yes, Sir!"

Tesar then barked, "Red Alert!" As he activated the interface on the arm of his chair to monitor their progress, the lighting on the bridge dimmed and warning Sirens began sounding. Red lighting had also activated to convey the nature of the ship wide alert that had over 1,000 people scampering to emergency stations. He fervently hoped they would not be needed there for long.

"Commander, the _Delora_ has activated their impulse engines and has set a course for the border. We should come out of warp 15 seconds ahead of them. The Breen are in pursuit, but have not opened fire," informed Faulks.

Tesar nodded, "Good. Let us hope they lack the time to do so." Tesar then raised his voice to address the helm, "Ms White, 15 seconds is cutting it close. Make sure we can evade the _Delora_ in the event they fail to cut their impulse engines off in time." Sensing the tension in the young woman through his empathic abilities, he decided to lighten the mood by adding, "I promised the Captain I would not dent her ship, and I fully intent to not return it to her with a Tyberian vessel sticking out of the hull, however decorative it might be."

He sensed the lieutenant smiling as she replied, "Understood, Sir," and left it at that.

Sitting back in his chair, Tesar thought about what the Premier had said. If the Breen were present in the Tyberius system, then the Captain might be in trouble. Though powerless to do anything about it now, he resolved to make sure they reached the system as quickly as possible once they were done here.

"Commander," started Lieutenant White, "we're approaching the border. Coming out of warp in 20 seconds."

Faulks added, "The Breen battlecruiser is still pursuing the _Delora_. They are now preparing their forward torpedo launchers."

"Dropping out of warp," informed White.

"They're firing on the _Delora_, Commander. The first torpedo missed; the second has hit their impulse manifold." Faulks could not keep the tinge of regret from his voice as he reported the next part, "They have lost impulse power."

"Ready tractor beam!" commanded Tesar. The next few seconds were agonising as everyone watched the _Delora_ powerlessly drift towards them, losing velocity with every kilometre. "As soon as they cross the border, use the tractor beam to halt their momentum."

Lieutenant White's fingers were dancing over her console as she manoeuvred the _Phoenix_ in preparation to nestle over the approaching _Delora_. The operations officer finally stated, "Engaging tractor beam." Working hard, White succeeded in tucking the damaged Tyberian vessel underneath _Phoenix's_ triangular primary hull.

"Extending shields," stated Faulks.

Tesar could see the Breen battlecruiser had stopped pursuing the _Delora_ just after they had fired their torpedoes. "The Breen?" he asked.

"Holding station three million kilometres off our bow, in free space. Their weapons systems are still armed," said Faulks.

"Sir!" called the operations officer, "the last hit the _Delora_ took has destabilised their anti-matter containment field. Complete failure will occur in two minutes, 20 seconds."

Tesar immediately began snapping out orders, looking at each recipient as he did so, "Transport the Tyberians over to _Phoenix_, NOW. Security, prepare to retract shields. Helm, plot a course away from here and prepare to jump to warp six on my mark." A chorus of 'aye Sir's and frantic beeps and blips of commands being entered into consoles were his response. Turning back towards the viewscreen, he watched as the Breen apparently decided they had had enough and activated their cloaking device, the battlecruiser fading away from his view with a faint ripple effect. Sitting back down in his chair, he was under no illusion that they had left: they would stick around to see if the exploding _Delora_ would take the exposed Starfleet vessel with them, from a safe distance. Since the _Delora_ was within their shields, they had no protection against the blast. Even when they did eventually retract their shields, the proximity of the matter/anti-matter detonation could still destroy at least the primary hull, including the bridge.

The slightly frazzled operations officer finally reported, "Transport complete, Sir. 241 Tyberians are now on board."

"Retract the shields! Ms White, get us out of here." As soon as the shields were reconfigured, Lieutenant White brought the ship around to face deeper into Federation space and engaged the warp engines.

Twelve seconds later, Faulks reported, "The _Delora_ has been destroyed."

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Tesar nodded, and then stood to look around at the officers on the bridge, "Good work." Noting the relieved smiles and sensing the crew starting to relax, he turned to Faulks, "Please have the Premier brought to the briefing room. And cancel the Red Alert."

Tesar turned and walked down the two steps into the navigation pit as the lighting levels returned to normal. Placing a hand on the top of the console, he looked down at the now nervous lieutenant and gave her one of his rare small smiles, "Nice flying Lieutenant. Increase our speed to warp nine and stay on this heading for another few minutes to let the Breen think we are taking our new friends somewhere safe; then change course to the Tyberius system."

White returned the small smile and added, "Aye Sir." Tesar left her to her work as he moved around to the left side of the bridge and through the door to await the Premier in the briefing room. Moving to the replicator, he ordered a jug of water and several tumblers, which he placed in the middle of the table. Taking the seat at the head of the table, he had just finished pouring himself a glass of water when the Premier entered, escorted by Faulks. While Faulks remained discretely near the door, Tesar stood and invited the Premier to the table.

"Premier Sordat, welcome aboard _Phoenix_. I apologise for your rather abrupt removal from your vessel, but it was necessary." Tesar stretched his arms out so his hands were level with his waist and turned his palms to the ceiling in a Tyberian greeting. The Premier returned the gesture before replying, "Please, no apologies. Your timing was perfect. My people and I thank you, Commander."

Tesar invited the Tyberian to sit as he poured some water for him. After reclaiming his own chair, he asked, "You mentioned that the Breen had 'unofficially' annexed your planet? If I may ask, how?"

"Not just Tyber Prime, Commander. The whole system." The Premier sighed before continuing, "Despite our proximity to Breen space, we have always been left alone by them. We have no resources they desire, and our technology is no threat to them. However, it seems we are now of strategic importance. While we are close to Breen space, we are closer still to you, the Federation." He paused a few moments to take a sip of water before continuing, "About three weeks ago we were approached by the Breen Confederacy and offered protectorate status. In exchange for their protection and shared resources, they wanted the use of Tyber III, the other habitable planet in our solar system."

"Did they say why?" prompted the Commander.

The Premier shook his head, "They indicated that it would have a military training use, but nothing specific. Naturally, we declined the offer. We have spent years preparing for membership of the Federation, and we have far more in common with you than we do with the secretive Breen. The Congress was united in this decision." The clearly tired man gazed down at his clasped hands as he spoke, "The Breen were not pleased with our response. Several battlecruisers and frigates decloaked in orbit of our homeworld and they threatened to bombard our cities if we did not… reconsider… their terms." He now looked up, his eyes wide as he tried to explain, "We had no choice! We have ships and weapons, yes, but nothing to stand up against a Breen fleet." His shoulders then slumped with his final words, "We gave them what they wanted, and they began to take control of the overall governance of Tyber Prime, including interstellar communications, so we could not contact the Federation."

"How did you manage to get away?"

The Premier snorted derisively, "One thing the Breen are, is arrogant. They thought we had completely surrendered to their dominance. They had disabled our starships, but not in any significant way, and had left them poorly guarded. Once they began their activities on Tyber III, most of their fleet relocated there. By the time they realised we had stolen one of our own ships, there was not much they could do about it until they eventually caught us where you found us."

Tesar drank slowly from his tumbler as he sorted through what he had just been told. Nothing seemed out of place, and he was not sensing any deception on the part of the Premier. "Any thoughts on what they are doing on Tyber III?"

"They are definitely using it for military training, and it appears they are making it into a large base, though I have no knowledge as to why. I am sorry, Commander. I wish I could be of more use, but they were very careful not to tell us much."

"You have been helpful, Premier. Thank you for seeing me. If there is anything you or your people need, please do not hesitate to ask. The crew will do everything they can to get you settled while we sort all of this out." The two men exchanged goodbyes, and the Premier was escorted from the room. Sitting back down, Tesar tapped his combadge, "Tesar to engineering."

"_Engineering, Ford here, Sir."_

"Commander, can we use the slipstream to get to Tyber Prime?"

"_Negative Sir, not without the array being fully operational, and that won't be for another 14 hours."_

Tesar clenched his teeth at the frustration of not being able to immediately go and see if the runabout was okay. "What is the maximum warp speed you can give me to get us there as quickly as possible?"

"_That we can sustain? Hm. We could probably manage warp 9.975 the whole way if my staff constantly babysit the engines so nothing breaks. That'll get us there in seven hours."_

"Make it 9.98, Commander. Tesar out." He tapped his combadge to close the connection and rose from his chair. Striding out onto the bridge, he ordered, "Ms White, increase speed to warp 9.98."

"Aye, Sir," she replied.

Settling in his command chair, Tesar could not help the feeling of dread that began to settle in the pit of his stomach. He hoped they would not be too late.


End file.
